There’s a person I know. They are gender neutral, and that’s a thing I grew up with no knowledge or concept of, except that I noticed that we all struggle to find our place, our identity, our dreams and which ones we decide to chase.

It’s been very difficult to change my language, and I have tried, often, to get out of the habit of southern traditional greetings. In the summer, wearing a fedora or a boonie, a leftover from the Army’s OD days, I’d motion to tip it and say, “good afternoon, ma’am,” or “sir,” and that’s a habit born of politeness and good manners, a thoughtful gesture meant to be friendly, declare yourself a safe person, and then let them pass without fear.

But this is not the 1960s North Carolina.

This is now, today, and things have changed. I prefer to acknowledge the wishes of others and show respect, and yet, I struggle. It isn’t easy. But, it is worth the effort to show respect for all people, except for killers, rapists, pedophiles and their ilk. I can spare no respect, no sympathy for them. May God understand and forgive me.

Yesterday, I was outside hosing myself down with my poisonous addiction: tobacco. It’s a nasty one, worse than almost all others combined in my opinion. I’ve quit opiates, booze and more, but I have two very nagging and powerful ones left, and smoking is one of them. It’s got to stop, but I have been unsuccessful so far. The sentence: slow death. There’s no cure. No treatment will work. When  I go, I can’t even hope that it won’t be painful. I wish I had never smoked the first one.

Sometimes a neighbor passes too close, making me think I should move further into the parking lot and away from the sidewalk.

But the neighbor moved too fast for me. They said, getting into their car, “have a nice day,” and I said, “You, too, ma’am.” I said it warmly, because this neighbor is a good friend, one I get to chat with far less often than I would like to.

As soon as “Ma’am” came out of my mouth, I was sorry, and it was too late to apologize, because they were already in the car and getting ready to leave.

I felt so bad that, hours later when I saw their car was parked, I knocked on the door. Another family member answered, and I insisted that he pass on my apology. He said, “it happens, I do it too,” but I begged him to pass along my apology. I said it was important.

A few minutes ago, they came outside and up the steps to thank me for making such an effort. They said they appreciated the gesture. I looked into their eyes and saw deep sincerity, something that’s very rare. They were close enough for me to see the look, and I said, “aww, I love you so much.” And I thanked them for making me feel better by assuring me that there were no hard feelings. Then, magic: a hug. Gentle, platonic, sincere, genuine.

We did talk for a few minutes, then, another hug. Wow. You can’t get a hug that meaningful from any lover, or most friends. I’ve never experienced that kind of love. Innocent, without reservation.

All it took was one apology that my friend passed along to them, and finally I knew how powerful the words “I’m sorry” really are.

They are special, this friend. My heart feels full today.