On Sunday afternoon, in the small Michigan beach town where we are spending the bulk of our summer, I bumped a teenager with my too large bag. We were in the small ice cream store, made smaller by the great amount of people crowding in on a warm summer day, and quite by accident, I cut a corner too close and bumped him on the shoulder.
"Oh, I'm so sorry", and I turned and smiled, having not seen the target of my purse assault.
And then it began, "are you all right? I'm so sorry, I just didn't see you! Oh, of course I did, it's just there are so many people in here, what a warm day! Wow! Time to really expand the little ice cream store isn't it? You're sure you are all right? Why on earth do I need such a huge bag? What do I have in here that is so important? So, ice cream store needs to get bigger and my purse needs to get smaller! Right!"
His mother smiled at me, that warm lunatic accepting smile, and he said "really, I'm fine".
Had it been Saturday afternoon a simple "I'm sorry" would have been perfectly fine but because I bumped him on Sunday, and because his skin was brown and mine was white, and because I blather incessantly when I am embarrassed or uncomfortable, a rambling apology for a simple whoops happened.
As if I could apologize for all the wrong that was done on Saturday.