“Sorry, Honey.”
We were passing through the same mini-mart door in opposite directions.
She was coming fast with her head down, but looked up to see me, and with a warm, Italian-American voice, she said “Sorry, Honey.”
She just reached out with her words to be nice to someone else.
Warm and compassionate, present and graceful, I loved that voice.
It’s the voice that I want, that instant and instinctive, womanly and effusive.
It’s that voice that I need, not the timid little hiding voice I too often use.
I need to be able to let myself touch others without hesitation or trepidation, without fear.
Speak up, speak out, speak.
Sorry, Honey.
Callan 