At least once I pulled a dyslexic slip with my words.

 

"I don't want to steep sheel." As soon as I said it I sensed it was wrong, but both women knew what I intended to say. The fact that I misspoke did not prevent them from understanding. 

 

Translation comes in handy in marriage. I had a friend whose husband was fifty pounds overweight, and had a penchant for Big Macs. Her own father had died of a heart attack in his fifties and she was anxious about her husband's arteries. She often badgered him about what he ate.

 

"Did you stop at McDonalds again??? I had a salad and chowder waiting here for you. Why do you do that?" Her voice was strident. What she meant to say was much softer. 

 

It can be tricky to say what we mean and mean what we say. I am grateful when the people I love can step past my broken syllables to find the real message, poorly wrapped in decoys. 

 

 

Photo by Jenny Stein

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