My mom used to call me a steamroller when I was little. I used to crawl to her bedroom, climb in bed with her and then roll over her. Like a steamroller.
Somehow, this physical quality has transmuted into an uncanny ability to stick my foot in my mouth. I’m now known as someone who often is caught saying things with great heaviness and not realizing the person I am telling them to is being flattened.
I don’t do this on purpose. Most of the time, I’m not aware I do it until it’s too late. Until the look of shock of whomever is standing in front of me gives it away. Or their sudden silence. Or their hurt.
And now, with all this soul searching I’ve been doing, with all this introspection, I find that I need to make amends. Of sorts. For the moment I cannot disclose more than this. This time the steamroller has been put away. Will tread lightly, hopefully, smoothing away the cracks without any weight.