It’s been difficult to find my voice this year. This one.
And so I opened a box of Christmas cards.
“Siri, play “pen.” playlist on shuffle.”
As the world now moves to the scrolls of digital platforms, I thought it necessary to sit down and write out my love—to those that I do.
Card by card, in a year in which much was plagued by loss, I found myself reflecting on all I’d gained: memories. It was an experience nearly spiritual, and entirely therapeutic.
“For all of the chaos 2020 has brought about, one of the calmest moments..”
“Our friendship has stood the test of time—and now a pandemic.”
I can talk, aloud, but that’s not really saying anything. No, this, this is my love language.
My words are my currency; because in some aspects, they’re all I have to give.
Like stimulus checks, before them, they’re landing in mailboxes around the country.
And thus, I hope the love serves as a source of restoration and revitalization.
“Siri, replay “Cigarettes and Coffee“.”