Lesson Learned

Lesson Learned

“Stop! Keep your hands to yourself!” Susan said emphatically.

He whipped his hands behind his back and looked shocked. “I ahhh, I was just...”

“If I need your help I’ll ask you. Don’t just ‘decide’ to take over my project because you ‘think’ you know better than I do about how to do it.”

“Well, I do know that if you...”

“Stop! I want to figure this out myself. If I have a question I’ll ask you. Now go do something of your own.”

That was fifty-nine years ago, and James. He'd been eight, his sister Susan, seven. The two had always been close. Though she and her family lived across the country, Susan remained one of his best friends to this very day.

Long married himself, James and his wife Alice had one of those marriages that everybody envied. They got along like two peas in a pod to the point where people often commented on how perfect they were for one another. “What’s your secret?” They’d always ask.

James would blush and stutter, and say “Just lucky I guess.” Though he knew there was more. Every now and then, with people who were very important to him, like his two sons, he’d tell them the real secret.

“It was a lesson I accidently learned about women, from my sister Susan when I was eight years old. Let me tell you.”