I got in a fight with my husband last night
Not a small fight, a big one.
The kind where you say things you will regret later.
The kind where your voice shrieks and you know you look crazy.
And then you’re embarrassed, but you don’t know how to stop barrel rolling.
I ate my dinner in tears and then cleaned.
That’s what I do when I’m out of control.
I control everything I can.
So I scrubbed pots and pans.
I wiped counters and I prayed.
I tried to figure out why I had snapped.
Rarely are we ever mad about the thing we have gone mad over.
And then he came.
He grabbed my waist and put his hands over mine in dirty sink water.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I don’t know what happened.”
And I couldn’t believe what was happening.
He was apologizing for what I had done.
He spoke first when I had yelled last.
I gave him my worst side and he put out his best hand.
And I hope I always remember last night.
I hope I never forget what it feels like to have someone apologize for your mistake.
I want to speak first when he yells last.
I want to give him my best hand after he shows me his worst.
Because everyone needs someone to stop keeping score.