“The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves.”
—William Penn
Today’s story is from Melanie.
Emotion of fools. I learned it from Dad.
Was I careless that day? Or was it jealousy? I was Daddy’s little girl. His favorite. His world revolved around me. At least that’s what I thought…
The Dodge
Dad brought her home on a Sunday. I watched through the window. They pulled up together. She was impressive I have to admit. Jealously? It flooded through me. There they stood, side by side. She had stolen Dad away from me! I was dismayed.
“Tons of power. American-made…” he shouted out to our neighbor across the way. “And I got a heck of a deal!” Yes, that’s right. She was a brand new, top of the line Dodge. A pickup, it was. Jet black. Shiny bright rims. Oversized bed. It had it all.
Dad worked construction. We lived simple but proud. But I had never seen him that proud… and I didn’t like it one bit. Dad spent rarely a dime on himself. He had saved up for years. This was an event, his one “big spend.”
But she would pay him back. Hauling lumber, tools and men — she’d help Dad get ahead. Gone was the junker. He’d had it for years. Now this was the ride. Dad was in love. He left her in the driveway for hours, watching for neighbors, hoping they’d gawk. It was sickening. I was completely ignored.
Melanie biking (courtesy of Pamela Palma photography)
Fine. Whatever. I was fed up. Time to go pedal out the frustration on my two-wheel ride. After a few laps around the block, I was relieved to see that the “honeymoon” was over. Truck was in the garage. Finally.
Following my normal routine (perhaps a bit faster, it felt like warp speed), I rolled into the garage.
Screeeeeeeeeeeccchhhh! The exposed tube metal of my handlebar. The side of dad’s shiny new truck. A slight miscalculation. A huge gouge.
The door flew open. He was on high alert. He looked at the gouge. At me. Back at the gouge. Blinking furiously in disbelief. “Dad, the truck is too big! It’s not my fault…” I huffed.
He stopped blinking and stared at me. Dad was wide eyed, trying to catch his breath. I giggled and shrugged, “I didn’t mean to… sorry.”
No doubt he was distraught. Do fathers cry? “Melly,” said Dad, his voice calm but quite sad, “Don’t talk to me for the rest of the day, I need some time away.”
Hurtful words. They pierced into my heart. I had tried to make him love me more. I ended up driving him away. My first lesson in jealousy.
Melanie and her dad
A few hours and many tears later, as I was preparing for bed, dad came in. He wanted to talk.
“Melly, I’m not mad at you for gouging my truck. I am hurt because you gouged into my heart…”
Ouch. Didn’t expect that.
“Honey, accidents happen. But today I felt like you didn’t care, you weren’t genuine in your apology… and that’s no accident.” I jumped up and slammed into my dad. I hugged him as tight as I could.
“But I am sorry, dad! Really! I will fix the scratch… just don’t be mad!” Dad picked me up. He hugged me so tight.
“Apology accepted. And yes, you will fix the scratch.” I nodded in approval. I didn’t care. What had I learned?
Jealousy? The emotion of fools. Apologies? Speak from the heart.