It seems that secrets and lies are always part of life.
There are big secrets, like the one my friend’s mom and sister kept from her. The sister had a son out of wedlock. She gave him up for adoption. Both the mom and sister died, and to her complete shock, my friend ended up getting a “find my roots” call. That’s a pretty big secret. Huge, even.
There are smaller secrets that seem big to the people involved. Like the friend who told very very few people that her husband wasn’t actually on frequent business trips. They were separated.
Then there are secrets people keep for minor personal reasons, just because the time is not right for a big reveal.
The same is true of lies. There are really big lies, like when a partner cheats. Or tries to pass off stolen drugs as prescription. Those are big big lies.
There are smaller lies, more like exaggeration, really, like saying you have eight pairs of red shoes when you only have three. Or that you’ve been to Paris 10 times when it’s only been two.
Then there are those little white lies, like “I love your new sofa.” No harm done there.
I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. People have told me all sorts of things that I’ve never been tempted to divulge.
Lies are always trickier, though. If someone lies about little things, it can’t help but make you wonder about the bigger things.
I’ve worked places where management habitually lies. They’re usually places where management insists on “high ethical standards.”
Secrets and lies. Tricky business.
Wouldn’t it be fun if noses actually grew when someone told a big lie?