I walked in the door and to my dismay, found him still at home.
When I'd left he was less than ten minutes behind with a promise to be there soon. My first thought was to ask in frustration why he never showed up, I had been waiting for him. The familiar feelings of irritation began to grow.
Thank goodness common sense interrupted or more likely the prompting of a higher source. I wasn't his mother, I was his wife. He was an adult and deserved my respect and sure as heck didn't want a lecture from me.
I found him in the kitchen and he greeted me with a smile, I gave him one of my own. We talked for a moment, voices calm, no accusations or annoyed looks. I breathed in.
He gave me a hug and asked how I was. Being in his warm embrace was much better than feeling the cold barrier of an argument.
I reflected on the times before I chose the argument, justifying myself as to why my place was to inform him what he was doing wrong. I remembered what always happened next and it didn't make me proud. Mountains grown from molehills, thickened tension from angry words tossed back and forth, nights with tears, days with stilted conversation, or none at all.
How quickly a tiny rock cast into a still pool can create ripples way beyond imagination. How quickly harsh or judging words can break a heart - the heart of someone we say, we love.
How simple it can be to keep silent.
How hard we often make it.
How rewarding it is when we do.