I am not sure it felt like courage, but I think it was. 

 

Last week I made three people sad. Unintentionally, I stepped on the feelings of different precious friends. Which is not worth telling you about, and not something I am proud of. 

 

But what is remarkable is that they told me. 

 

One person had expected me to call, and I forgot. I regretted it, and realized my mistake as such.

 

Another was hurt that I bailed on a plan to meet for breakfast. Again, not my best move. 

 

The third was a person who pointed out an unkind sentence in a story I wrote. It was obvious as soon as she said it.

 

What touches me is that they trusted our relationship enough to speak up. The truth is, I want to know my missteps. I need to know. 

 

I could have tried to defend myself with details like a freshly broken wrist, and the confusion that brought to my routine. I intend to reread my writing, and check it for faux pas, but that day I did not. Yet defensiveness is a way to hurl distractions into the breach, rather than look more closely. 

I tried to listen, and respond. I apologized.  

 

And what amazes me, is that I have another chance to do better.