On Tuesday morning I woke up to a wonderful, completely unexpected email. It was from someone I've never met, someone I know a tiny bit from comments on various bits of online writing over the years.
I bequeath some of it to you now, with permission....
"I can’t choose a post to comment on so I’m emailing you instead. I can’t think of one thing to say so I’ll just let everything fall out of my brain while Adam Hurst plays the cello and makes all my thoughts feel like they are part of an animated film set in a rainy European city. Everywhere the sound of tires through water and shoes clicking on pavement.
"I’m sorry your mom is in pain. Sometimes I can feel you getting older. This is one of those times. Most people would translate this as something negative. But it isn’t negative or positive. It just is. Sometimes life is less about fighting to remain exuberant and more about letting ourselves be pulled into the languid palm of acceptance. We are our kindest when this happens, but it is also when we strap the weights on our hearts and grow a little more tired."
I really love that.
Then she said some nice things about my writing, which I'm far too splendidly, magnificently modest to repeat.
But the whole thing just rejoiced right through me, and it fills me up to have someone respond to anything I've written with something so singular and poetic and personal. And it chimes so perfectly with what I was trying to elucidate here. Not the sentiment, but the very fact of its existence. The dialogue. The connection.
I love too the fact that you never know when people are reading your words. It's like at any moment, in any part of the world, someone could be out there, dancing with your ghosts, and you only ever get to hear about it if they're moved enough to take the time to talk to you. And when they do talk to you, and in the process they touch something in you, it's just golden.
Meanwhile my mum is up and down.
On Monday we were forced to add pneumonia to peritonitis at the top of the list of things we really weren't expecting, but then came two days of definite improvement.
And as if that weren't enough, look!
It's stopped raining!
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I am Karl Webster. I wrote these words. If you liked them, you’ll be overjoyed to know that there are plenty more where they came from. So you should definitely sign up to my newsletter if you haven’t already.