Communication
Going through a divorce gave me a second language. It was a language my mother would have described as one only a sailor would know.
Previously, my two boys had never even heard me utter the sh*t word.
Driving in the truck one day with my boys, I was the victim of a disrespectful driver. I had experienced several years of being disrespected and the turbulent emotions within me erupted in a string of words I hadn’t even realized I knew. I could hear my youngest son asking my oldest, "what did Mom just say, WHAT did Mom just say?"
It was like the bursting of a dam. I began freely practicing my new skill including gestures that came to me effortlessly as if I had been using them all my life. As if some innate knowledge had come to the surface in a time of great need. ( a miracle!)
Now, going through a divorce also meant I had to change my shopping habits. Since I had gone back to work, I had to shop later in the day and since my income was cut severely, I had to shop in somewhat scarier neighborhoods.
Undaunted, I continued to roll down my window and let people know when their rude behavior had displeased me until one day after one of these moments of sharing, my son told me that he did not want to die.
He said that I needed to just stop, or at least to stop sharing my feelings with strangers when he was in the car. ( He may have used a different phrase or two but that was what he meant.) He asked me to take a look at the guy I had just spoken with. I did and I admit he didn’t look all that respectable and could possibly have had a small arsenal hidden under his baggy clothing and tattoos. So I decided I would try to change my ways.
Not long after, we went to Wishing Well. I chose not to go to the downtown location, but to go to one in a better neighborhood. We went in the middle of a bright sunny day instead of going at night. I parked right up front near the entrance.
When we came out of the store, there was a young man standing near my truck Peeing on the front tire!
I shouted, "Hey, what are you doing?" He turned around and muttered, Uh, oh, sorry, while stuffing himself back in his pants.
I was outraged and was yelling questions such as "why didn’t you use the bushes!?", ( there was an area with shrubs right next to my parking space ) "Why my truck?" At this point, one of the two friends with him pulled his sweatshirt up over his face and the other convulsed into laughter down to the pavement.
Mindful of the boys with me and the promise I had made, I was desperately searching for words, other than the four letter variety, to use. I came up with, "You have no couth!!"
The young man’s face went blank, then he asked in a very sincere and puzzled way, "What is couth?"
submitted by Natalie from California