But I Was Right, Dammit!

The conversation in my head kept repeating itself. Same exact words over and over. She said this; I said that. She was hurt; I was angry.  I had a right to be mad. I was right; she was wrong. But isn't that how we always see things when they don't go our way? Aren't we always on the side of what's right? Why is it so hard for those who disagree with us not to see the error of their thinking?

There was that damn conversation again--repeating, repeating, repeating my harsh words, her tears turned to heavy sobs. But I was right, dammit; I was right! If there was an apology given, it would be hers. The first person to make the call would be her. I was not calling her. I was right!

Maybe, I thought on that August day in 2010,  if I took a walk outside with nature's most beautiful spread of mountains, creeks and rivers laid out before me,  I could clear my head of that extremely unpleasant conversation. But there it was again. My words, her hurt. Nope! Not calling.

As I was standing on our driveway, a slideshow of our fifty years together, starting with me holding her in my arms when she was three days old, began.

I tried to turn the slideshow off. No! Not backing down. Not gonna happen. No way. I was right! Then the slideshow stopped and one single thought came to my mind: What if something bad happened to my sister during this time? What if I lost her? How important would me being "right" be then?  Nope! Still not gonna make that first call. I was right, dammit!

Then it happened. I tried to swallow, but my throat wouldn't allow it; I could not breathe. What in the world was going on? I panicked and grabbed my throat. Long scary seconds passed before I was able to breathe normal again. Then I began to cry. It wasn't a silent cry with tears streaming down my face. Oh, no. They were loud uncontrollable sobs that lasted until I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone.