Sorry

It happened on the second hour of Christmas day more than 20 years ago. My dad, who had stormed out of the house after a major fight with my mother a few hours earlier, walks into my room, sits beside me in bed, embraces me, and, his voice cracking, says “Sorry”. Then he leaves as quietly as he came. I wasn’t able to say anything. I didn’t get up. I didn’t even embrace him back. I think I froze. It was the first time he opened up that way. It never happened again.