My Long Overdue Apology - Nez

 My Long Overdue Apology

By Nez Nesmith

I can’t remember for sure but when I was in third maybe fourth grade in Lyman Grade School, during recess one day Ray and Bud, both buddies of mine, were in some sort of game of “chase or tag”, I was never sure about that either. Anyway, Bud came flying by me and Ray was chasing him, so I just stuck my foot out and Ray tripped and flew into the front concrete steps of the school house. I immediately pull my foot back, realizing that I had made a terrible mistake. There was a crowd of kids in the area and no one realized that I had tripped Ray and caused his unfortunate sprawl, but of course I knew. Fortunately, he wasn’t too badly hurt, but his knee was torn and bleeding through his torn jeans and both his palms were scraped. I did not confess my offense to anyone, but I did go to his aid. Several of us helped Ray into the school where our teacher, Mrs. Nichol, cleaned and dressed the wound. Over the many years since that moment, I’ve thought about that incident many, many times. 

Several years ago, I realized that I hadn’t seen Ray for at least fifty years and I had still not apologized to him. He had never come to any of the school reunions that I attended. I had been to only a few myself, being that I was in Texas most of that time. So, it wasn’t particularly unusual for us not to have run into one other. 

Years of guilt finally got to me, so I made some inquiries as to where Ray might be. I knew he was alive because his name was not in the list of deceased schoolmates. I found that he lives just three miles outside of Lyman. He doesn’t do cell phones, email or computers, so I left word on the answering machine and he called me the next day. I told him I was coming out there in about a week to visit my aunt in Lynnwood and it would be nice to see him again, so he suggested that we meet for lunch. We quickly settled on a time and place. 

I arrived at our appointed place and immediately recognized Ray, though he was older and a little heavier, but still looked like himself, even fifty-some years later. He still has a full head of mostly dark hair. I was a little jealous. I spoke first and he said he would not have recognized me.

We ordered deli sandwiches, sat and talked. We had a really nice conversation catching up on our lives, military service, work, and families. Finally, I got around to his tumble on the school steps when we were in Mrs. Nichol’s class. He didn’t remember the tumble, or the bleeding knee, or scrapped palms, or the torn jeans. He said those all sound like things that always happened to him in those days. His Mom was always mad at him for tearing his jeans and getting minor cuts, scrapes and bruises. 

I confessed, “well, you took that tumble because of me. You were running by me and I tripped you. It’s been a really long time coming but I sincerely apologize.” 

He said, “thank you, but I honestly don’t remember that happening at all.” A moment later he laughed, “you mean to tell me that’s bugged you all these years?” 

Humbled, I said, “it has whenever it comes to mind.” 

He chuckled and magnanimously said, “well, I bet you’ve suffered more than I did, so let’s just put it behind us and forget about it.” And smiled, “okay?”

We later parted agreeing to stay in touch, but we won’t. Neither of us thought enough about the other to reach out in over fifty years. So, not likely. 

On occasion I still think about that moment of the “tripping” and how vividly it keeps coming back to me from so long ago. Even though it wasn’t a major incident to him, the fact that I didn’t confess and apologize at the time still “bugs” me. But I don’t know what it means. So, I ponder on it for a moment or two and then I take Ray’s advice and put it behind me. Again. 

Nez Nesmith

February 2023