I once knew a boy named Zavier.
He wanted to go live with his grandmother, when he was nine… because he couldn’t stand his parents. Mr & Mrs Erickson.
His parents were complaining a lot about him. He doesn’t do school home works,
he doesn’t clean the house, nor his own room.
All he does is play video games.. And use his new laptop.
His grandmother asked Zavier’s parent to let him come and live with her, because they get along more than his parents..
He had to change school and make new friends.
His grandmother would forgive whatever he did, no matter how horrific or unpleasant, as long as Zavier says “I’m sorry.”
Instead of any kind of punishment. The grandmother would just ask him to say he was sorry.
It didn’t matter what he had done. All he had to say was that He was sorry. And his grandmother would forgive him.
His tongue got very good at saying he was sorry, because whatever he does that was wrong to him or was wrong to another, outside or at home. All he had to say was that he was sorry. And everything would be settled.
One day he slowly walked inside his grandmother’s bedroom.. Around 11:55 PM in the night. Sat down and was playing with two lighted candles, Inside the bedroom.
He dropped the candles on the floor, because he was bored. And then he left the room. the next thing he knew.. There was a fire burning out of control.
He ran out of the house just as far as he possibly could. Till something made him stop, while he was running.
He returned home, hoping he would have a chance to apologize to his grandmother.
He was sure that saying those favorite words would convert him. And change everything.
There was no opportunity to say those favorite words. Because… the fire made sure of that.
The grandmother died in the burning flame fire. The boy stopped using the words. The boy stopped saying “I’m sorry.”