I don’t remember the circumstance of this question.
Can I just lie, dad? It sat among hundreds of other questions my girls ask on a given day. The ones I remember to write down, anyway. Some float away into the ether and out of my memory. Sometimes … sometimes, they stick.
Like when my youngest asked, would you die for me, daddy? Then, you give it its own post.
Like, Can I Just Lie, Dad? It’s a question born perhaps of filling a water cup in Taco Bell with Baja Blast Mountain Dew. Or claiming to be 9 when being 10 would mean an extra $3.95 on the buffet.
Or after someone lost someone’s soccer ball/head band/nail polish remover.
It came because the example I set contains the right thing and the wrong thing in those situations.Yes, love, you can just lie. It’s easy. Just, say not the truth. It’s convenient. It can get you out of a bind.
My dad needed to go to the hospital. He’s okay, but I didn’t do my homework because of it.
It can excuse you from being late to practice or not turning in your spelling words.
Our car broke down. My dad needed to go to the hospital. He’s okay, but I didn’t do my homework because of it. I’m 5-8. The check’s in the mail. I sent that email. You didn’t get it? Lies are easy. It’s the next part that gets tricky.
One lie alters reality.
Why are you coming from the west, when you said you were caught in traffic on the east side? What about that Instagram from Carowinds when you said you’d be at church? Why do you smell like pineapple?
One lie pollutes the pool.
Lies need excuses made for them, a whole tangled web of new reality that isn’t real to keep it supported. It can grow outlandishly tall. My dad’s still in the hospital. The car, I don’t know, part of it just … exploded! Someone just threw pineapple juice on my bookbag. I don’t know why.
Truth isn’t easy and truth isn’t perfect.
The truth costs more up front. Lies cost more in interest.
Truth isn’t easy and truth isn’t perfect. Truth spoken or written might not always lead to good. It leads where it needs to go, and where you need to go. Yes, I took your notebook. No, I didn’t really go to my sister’s. I had more than one beer. Take my keys?
Truth fits in the same bag as trying your best, though.
Truth is also those feelings you still harbor that you weren’t able to articulate when you needed to most. It might not have mattered. Yet, that they’re still inside, still unheard … that’s a tough act to follow.
No one’s perfect.
I’ll implore you though, sweet lovey, to choose truth as often as you can. Unapologetically. Those truths that impact those around you, loved ones and those you just share this earth with. The most important truths, though, are those that comprise you.
I can lie, too.
So, yes. You can just lie.
I can too. Let’s remind each other, by presence more than words, of the power truth has, even following lies in the lineup. No matter how far off course lies veer us, it’s nothing a dose of truth can’t fix.
And that’s the truth.