Image by Ramanathan.Kathiresan
This morning I got a speeding ticket on the way to work.
I was driving really fast. On a residential street. In the rain. In other words, I completely deserved that ticket. (The one that’s going to cost me all the money I’ve been saving for a blog redesign and then some. Sigh.)
You know what else I deserved? Getting in trouble with my husband.
But aside from noting that a ticket of my, AHEM, substantial size would get him fired (he drives for a living), he didn’t say anything other than, “It’s okay.”
You should know that my husband got so many tickets when we were dating that my parents finally told him, “If we see your name in the paper one more time, you can’t take Mary on any more dates.” (We lived in a small town that listed all speeding tickets, as well as any other breaking crime news, in the weekly newspaper.)
Then, in the early years of our marriage, he committed so many traffic violations that more than once, we had to pay a lawyer to “take care” of his tickets. I’d go on about how we were throwing away our money and how dangerous it was and would he ever grow up and . . . well, you get the [ugly] picture.
Each and every time this happened, I would huff and puff and yell and scold and generally treat him like a naughty child.
Meanwhile, I had received a mere two tickets, several years apart, in the 15 years I’d been driving. This, of course, prompted me to oh-so-graciously inform my husband on more than one occasion that I am a much better driver than he is. As a professional driver, he didn’t take that too well.
Then, six months ago, I got two tickets in two days. Three months later, I backed into a parked car while backing out of a friend’s driveway. And today, I got yet another speeding ticket.
Can you say “eating crow”? Or, perhaps, “what goes around comes around”? Maybe even “practice what you preach”?
This is what I mean when I say that my husband had every right to be irritated with me. But he’s not like that. And even though he has every right to lecture me and tell me exactly what I’ve already told myself, he didn’t.
He just said, “It’s okay.” For him, that’s really all there is to it.
I joked on Facebook that “I think I’m turning into my husband, because I just got another ticket.” But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it means I freely forgive the people I care about.
As long as I don’t have to grow a beard and drive a big truck all day, I think that will work. I want to be more like my husband when I grow up!
(Of course saying “It’s okay” isn’t always possible or even the right choice. But when it comes to dirty socks on the floor or dishes decorated with dried food in the sink – or even an expensive mistake like a speeding ticket – I’m learning to let it go.)
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