Dear Amy,

When I was younger, I was an avid reader, but not in a romantic, whimsical way. Like any interest of mine, reading was meticulous and purposeful. I was obsessed with reading dictionaries. I would read them page by page and highlight individual words whose meanings resonated with me as if to tuck them away into my back pocket and save them for later like an epiphany that had arrived too soon. Then when I was writing, I would always start with one of my highlighted words and build everything else around it because even when I didn’t know what I wanted to say, I knew that word had initially spoken to me and all I had to do to write was respond back.

For example, I would discover the word “halcyon” in the dictionary and learn that it meant to “denote a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful” and then I would highlight it because I was so compelled by its potential relevance as if to manifest halcyon moments to both live through and reflect back on as such.

And then all of a sudden, years later, I am sitting with you in the back of an Uber and we are holding hands as we watch TikToks with the other and all I can think about afterwards is what a halcyon car ride it was with you and in that moment, it is the only word I know because it is the only word that makes sense to me.

As I’ve gotten older, I don’t read as much, but I hold on to words just as tightly. To this day, people will still say things that sit with me long enough to feel like a discovery.

A week ago, I remember thanking you for complimenting my writing and telling you, “You made my day.”

To which you responded, “I’m so glad I did. You deserve good days.”

I hope you know that after reading your response, I paused for a minute as if to mentally reach for the highlighter I no longer carry with me. I hope you know it felt like you were inventing something, comparable to how new words build bridges to new ideas that are actually just old ones promising us that we’re seen and heard and not alone in how we feel.

I hope you know what an altruistic sentiment it is, to go out of your way to assure someone that the kind thing you did was because they, themself deserve kind things. It is such a beautifully gentle gesture to nurture someone’s self-love rather than cultivate the perception of being kind. (Although they are in no way mutually exclusive). I think it says a lot about love, actual love, and how it gives and gives and gives without ever asking for anything in return, how love in its simplicity and sincerity speaks to people so loudly while simultaneously sitting with them in silence holding their hand.

Amy, I hope you know that I see your kindness and I hear your reassurance and because of your words I feel the opposite of alone.

I hope you know I love you and I miss you and that any day with you is a halcyon day.

Love,

Grace