Earth Day. The speech I didn't give.

I didn't say it. We were running late in the morning. Dinner needed making. By the time we sat down I was tired and the moment had passed and I thought: this happens every year. Earth Day arrives and I intend to say the meaningful thing and then it's April 23.

So instead I'm writing it here. The speech I didn't give.

Here is what I would have said:

The planet is having a difficult time. This is true. Adults have not managed it as well as we should have, and the consequences are going to be part of your lives in ways they weren't part of mine. I'm sorry about that.

The children were not waiting for the speech. They were eating dinner. They had not asked for an Earth Day address. What I wanted to give was for me, not for them — the satisfaction of having said the real thing on the right day, which is a parental impulse that has more to do with the parent's sense of adequacy than with any actual need the child has.

I know this about myself. I still feel the impulse. The impulse and the knowledge sit together without resolving.