My teenage daughter comes home from school and is very upset. She had to stay after school because she forgot her history homework. “Mom, half the class forgot to do it but I was truthful and put my hand up and I had to stay behind…..” What do you say? The truth always is the best option. Or is it? I started thinking back to my own youth.

I remember Sister MacAletta (my arch enemy) asking me did I knit my scarf all by myself? I promptly replied that my mother helped me. I got six big wollops with her bamboo cane. My girlfriend said. “Ye ejit, you should have said that you knitted it all yourself.” My mother asked me on her deathbed, was she dying? My brother told me not to tell her but I felt I had to. She died 2 hours later. My brother said she would have lived longer if she had not known!!! I think to this day, he has not forgiven me. All through my live, I have always thought that I should take the high road. But recently, I am beginning to doubt all my principles. After so many interviews and job rejections, a friend of mine said, you should colour your CV! So, basically lie about what you have and have not done. She swears that everyone does it. But am I everyone?

I think back to when I was snogging a boyfriend and my mother interrupted us and she asked what we were doing? I told her the truth and was called a trollop. My first job and my boss asked me if I liked rugby and I told him the truth. I hated it because I was brought up in a household of rugby fanatics. I did not get the promotion that I deserved. Sindy, the office airhead, became my boss soon afterwards. She loved rugby or should I say the rugby lads that she entertained!! I was passed over for another promotion in the publishing world because I would not play office politics. There seems to be a common denominator in my life.

I did a gig for €50 and told my ex-husband (casually in conversation) and he deducted it from my alimony! Where does truth end and lies begin? My lawyer even told me that I was too truthful What does that mean? I thought that truth was truth and lies were lies. I seem to be caught up in some grey area of a little bit of the truth mixed up with a bit of a lie. I call on my dead father for advice and all I can hear in my head is "do the right thing". But is the right thing a thing of the past? Should I re-invent myself and “do the thing that suits me”. Could I look in the mirror at night and recognise that person? I now see a soft, jolly countenance. But would I change into some bitter old hag if I coloured the truth?

My daughter interrupts my train of thought. “Mom, I have been thinking about things and I know I did the right thing. I feel good about myself.” My class mates think I am cool for putting up my hand. They didn't dare but now feel bad that they didn't.” I look at her proudly and Mozart pricks his ears. For now, I will continue on my truthful path and guide my daughter along the way.

Time for walkies and Mozart wags his tail. He looks at me with such enthusiasm that I get a warm feeling in my weary bones. And, yes, that is the plain, honest truth…
 

Niamh

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