17 Oct
2026
When you mess up, every part of you wants to keep walking. I know, because one night when I was sixteen, I was already sitting at a bus stop, ready to let it go. Instead I got up, walked back and knocked on the door. That short walk taught me one of the most useful lessons of my life.
In November 2003 I was dating a girl from school. Every day after school, I took the bus to her house so we could spend time together. I got to know her two younger brothers and her mother.
At first, her mother saw me as a bad boy. Looking at how I carried myself back then, I can see why. I was big, I wore the same pants four days in a row, and I was a mean young man who hardly smiled. She wanted good things for her children, and her rule was that her children needed to get their education and a good job first, and after that they could do whatever they wanted.
Over time, as we got to know each other, she began to see that I was not just a bad boy. I was a young man looking for someone special to come into my life.
Then I gave her a reason to doubt me again. One night, around 11:00 p.m., I came over and was snuck into the house. Her mother walked in and found me in her daughter's room, where I had no business being without her permission. She was in shock. I left, and my girlfriend was in serious trouble because of me.
I made my way to the bus stop and sat there thinking about what I had just done and how wrong it was. I could have gone home. Most people would have. But I couldn't sit there knowing she was being punished because of me.
So I got up and walked back to the house and knocked. Her mother opened the door without a word. The look on her face said everything.
I apologized for what we had been doing in her house. That didn't change her expression. So I kept going and told her the truth: I loved her daughter and only wanted the best for her. The minute I mentioned love, I saw her face soften. I think a man who would truly love her daughter was all she really wanted for her.
She asked if that was all. I said yes, that I was leaving, but I couldn't sit down knowing her daughter was in trouble because of me. She told me I had better take good care of her daughter. I promised I would, and I walked away smiling.
From that day on, everything was different. I was welcome to come over for dinner and talk with the whole family. The same woman who had seen me as a bad boy now had me at her table.
In my memoir I summed it up in one line: "That day made me realize that speaking up really does help out in life."
My grandfather, Arnold Burkett, taught me the same thing years earlier in Jamaica. He told me not to run from any man or problem, but to face them one at a time, and to be truthful because it would take me far. That night at the bus stop, I finally understood what he meant.
I am not a counselor, but here is what that night taught me about apologizing and speaking up:
I won't pretend I always got it right after that. I made plenty more mistakes. But I never forgot how much one honest conversation changed. Walking away would have kept me "the bad boy" in that woman's eyes forever. Speaking up gave her a chance to see who I really was.
If there's someone you owe an apology to, don't wait for the perfect moment. Walk back and knock. You can read more about the lessons I learned growing up in my memoir Neglected But Undefeated on my Books page, and you'll find more of my thoughts on love and honesty on my Quotes page.
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