We fill our spaces and silences with banter about sleep and snacks and strollers and field trips. We dance, and skillfully too, around the harder, nameless stuff -- the stuff that makes us shake with worry and spin with wonder, the stuff that makes us real.
How many times a day do you apologize? Think about it. Not a major, "I messed up" kind of acknowledgement, more of a figure of speech, a rationalization, an excuse. If you're like me, it happens often.