To Be Real Sorry

I’m fixing to be real sorry.

One of the contradictions of the English language is that a lot of words, spelled and pronounced exactly the same, have entirely different meanings, consequently it is the context in which they are used which determines their meaning. For instance, using the word “sorry” in reference to a person could mean they are trifling, paltry, dismal, worthless and despicable. On the other hand it could mean they are conscience-stricken, regretful and remorseful.

So when I say I’m fixing to be real sorry I don’t mean I’m on the road to being a reprobate, a bum, or that I’m planning on a low-life existence going forward. No, what I mean is that I want to make a prolific and profound apology for my behavior, which I know to have been an affront to gentle folks, an insult to my family and friends, and I’m sure, would be lacking in public approval if it was widely publicized.

The fact that the deed has been bearing down on my mind is evidence enough that I am truly sorry, ashamed, and desire to make amends and move on with my life after having committed such a grave error as a human being, and a cruel miscalculation of what was the right thing to do.

I know if my momma was alive today she would be ashamed of me because she had taught me better. She wouldn’t have just scolded me either, she would have threatened to take a switch to me even though I was a grown man.

The thought of what my momma would do in the present situation really was hurtful, because I had always striven to make her proud of me, and now here I was tried and convicted of a hideous sin.

Allow me to set the scene: I had invited family and friends to a post holiday gathering to celebrate football and food, during which the normal holiday fare had been packed up, frozen or trashed, and I was cooking up a meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, greens and biscuits because everyone was sick of traditional holiday food.

The first indication of my being socially condemned was when one of my Cousin Elroy’s sisters condemned me to Hell, another had abruptly abandoned the gathering, and a third one had used strong language against me while accusing me of committing the ultimate insult, while a fourth one told me I ought to be hung.

Some of my friends had grown sullen and actually started cheering on the football team I hated.

Doggone if I wasn’t in pretty bad shape. My family and even my friends had turned against me for my despicable behavior.

If I had it all to do over again I wouldn’t have watched those two overtime periods of the game, and wouldn’t have been fixing to have burned the biscuits.