I’m sorry. Lily

October 13

Lily,

I keep wanting to make this clever. Clever is how people slip out of a real apology. So here it is, plain.

I’m sorry.

Your voice is sweet. Not small — sweet. It should make a person go quiet and stay there. I heard you and still talked over that softness. I rushed you. I let you carry the moment when I should have been listening. You already had my attention. I was careless with it.

You are Asian and Latina. Not halves I get to pick between, and not a detail I get to skip when it isn’t convenient. All of it is you. I should have shown that in the way I treated you, not only in the way I talk about you.

And you are beautiful. I’ll say it once, cleanly, because looking away would be another lie. You are stunning. People lose their place when you walk in. I lost mine, and then I acted as if noticing you was the same as taking care of you. It isn’t. Anyone can look. Kindness was the part that was mine to do.

If I made you feel overlooked, talked over, or unsure that I was proud to stand next to you, that failure is mine. You were never hard to be proud of.

You don’t owe me forgiveness. You don’t owe me a reply. You don’t owe me softness you don’t have today. I only needed this said somewhere you could find it.

I’m sorry, Lily.