Recently I got an apology from someone. Actually it was more of an explanation. I did not feel particularly appeased when I heard it, and felt like it was more about her and her circumstances than it was about me. Sorry to be egocentric, but I think it helps when the person who felt wronged is the subject rather than the object of the conversation. 

One of the more enduring parenting practices we leaned on was called Nice Things. If one child, usually daughter A, had been slugged by another child, usually son B, she got to ask for a Nice Thing as compensation. Often it involved her favorite juice, or a throne of pillows on the couch, or the best Legos. It focused the attention on the one who had a bruise, rather than the one who had a fist and it softened many altercations. I can't say if it prevented them, as son B liked action, and fighting was as interesting as being a slave for five minutes and definitely preferable to boring old cooperation. 

Gary Chapman's book Five Languages of Apology nails it. He spells out the ways we can make a bridge between two people who have suffered a misunderstanding. It is easy to think that if we decorate a slender "sorry" with the convoluted circumstances around our own experience, the person hurt will somehow see that being inconvenienced or huffy was a bad idea in the first place. But the real opportunity that an apology invokes is the chance to listen.

"How did my being late impact you?"

"What were the repercussions of me not handing it in on time?"

"Were you disappointed, or angry?"

"What would you like me to do now?"

"Can you forgive me?"

When I truncate the interaction to my concise admission of guilt, without also giving space to the person I am apologizing to, I miss the best part. It's like driving up to the park and standing outside the grate.