The Question You're Afraid To Ask

Where were you?

That day, that first day, that day, years ago.

Where were you?

I was at work.

Yeah.. I figured that much.

It's more than two decades later and even though this thought has been on my mind for weeks, I had just this morning felt ready to utter the words to you.

Where were you that day?

Or maybe what I really needed to say was, why weren't you there?

I don't know, it just came to me, so organically this morning over coffee, I looked at you while you were talking about some family dinner menu and I just muttered "Where were you that day?"

"I was at work" you said.

Yeah...

"I wasn't supposed to work that day, I was supposed to take you, but I got called in at the last moment".

Yeah.

I understand.

"I wanted to be there that day".

Okay.

"You have no idea how awful I felt".

It's twenty something years later, I'm having a glass of wine in my house with the balcony doors open, it's way over midnight and it actually just hit me. And it finally made sense to me:

Why I'm always an asshole to those who are willingly and openly there, and why I crave the ones who are not.