These are the places I will always go

Live a brilliant adventure.


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Dear Chris & Jeannie, Part 2

Bob Goff started Love Does with a drum line.

I’m not kidding.  There were 6-8 kids in uniform with drums and one kid blowing a whistle. They walked through the aisles and performed in front of the stage. Bob Goff opened Love Does with a drum line. It was awesome.

 I’m going to sidetrack myself for a second and reflect on the fact that, though I love being out here and meeting new people; I think Chris McCandless was right when he said “happiness is only real when shared.” Not to say I’m not happy here or that being out here alone isn’t fun – I think we all know by now that I’m a pretty independent person and if no one will go with me, I’ll go by myself. That’s not a problem for me. But while walking around in a room full of balloons, talking to Bob after his session and telling people at lunch how my friends saw my suffering and introduced me to Jesus – I realized how much I wish I could’ve shared this event with the two of you.  Or anyone for that matter.

When Donald Miller spoke, he said  

“People reach out to us not because they see us for who we are, but because they see who we are becoming. And so they reach out.”

Naturally, I thought about the two of you and how you’ve helped guide my faith and build my relationship with Jesus. I thought about Easter morning when Chris texted me and asked if I wanted to go to Church. I never told you this, but that week had been an exhausting week for me. I worked well over 40 hours and woke up every morning to bike into work. I slept in on Saturday and all I wanted to do on Sunday was sleep. I played around with the idea of asking Chris to take me to church, but, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to go. Or if it was okay for me to just show up to Easter mass randomly. But at 9:00AM that morning, I naturally woke up. I wasn’t tired and oddly enough, I felt well rested. So when Chris asked me if I wanted to go to Church with him, I didn’t even hesitate. I wasn’t tired; I wasn’t questioning anything at all – I just knew God expected me to me at Church and so I as going to be there.

My point is: I am so in love with the two of you. You saw my suffering and you could’ve easily just ignored me and marked me off as another “non-Christian who just doesn’t get it;” but you didn’t. Because I think you guys saw that God was trying to do something in my life; that he was trying to get my attention. And you helped him do just that. So, I thank Donald Miller for sharing his story and writing an honest book; but I thank you even more for putting it in my hands.

Being here so far has felt incredibly right. I think of all the places I could’ve been right after graduation, this is exactly it. Which makes me smile inside because I had that same thought a few weeks ago when I was in Florida with To Write Love On Her Arms – being there made the most sense for me when I felt lonely and sad that I couldn’t be in Boston while the city was falling apart. God is up to something; I’m not entirely sure what it is yet, but he’s directing me to these places for something bigger and better.

And so I was sitting in this room today surrounded by Christians. Listening to Donald Miller, Bob Goff and Ryan O’Neal from Sleeping At Last played my favorite song, “Noble Aim.” There were moments where I felt really out of place. I felt like a faker when people quoted the bible and I had no idea what they meant or if they referenced a chapter and I didn’t know what it was, I felt stupid. But this guy who performed in the beginning, Brandon Heath, he said: “What I don’t get; I trust. And that’s what faith is.” He was really cool and he made beautiful music. He went on to say ask: “What are we waiting for? What’s keeping us from loving people? What is keeping us from loving God?”

That stuck with me. I thought about all the surroundings in my life that I often tried to replace with God. But what I also thought about was how recently, I haven’t wanted any of those things. I met a really great guy who has been nothing but nice to me. In a perfect world, he’s my ideal guy.  But he’s not because what I couldn’t – and didn’t want to – explain was my newfound faith. Not that I was embarrassed by it, but because I don’t understand it yet. But it’s this new relationship that I have but I feel like I can only talk about it with few people. People who won’t say I can find that same thing in a drug or through sex. Because people do say that. I’ve felt a little lost because I don’t know what to say sometimes; but nowadays I’m writing and thinking more because I’ve found it. I found what I lost and what I lost was myself.

Don says “when we lose that, we lose our way. and when we can’t be ourselves, we end up isolating ourselves.”

The first few months after I finished school in December were met with so much darkness. So much confusion and so many questions. When I get depressed, it’s very hard for me because I don’t want to show it since people know me as a happy and put together girl. So in order to hide it, I hide myself. So I stayed in for awhile and did my own thing. I didn’t want people to know that I didn’t have it figured out. Just as for awhile there, I didn’t want people to know I was thinking about Jesus.

Don said some more things that shaped me literally throughout his speech.

He  said not to be careful.

He said we are careful because we don’t want tp be wrong. Or to be judged.

He said God lets us get in touch with the passion within us because maybe – just maybe – he is letting us decide what we want to do. He wants to light us up.

That God wants to do stuff with you so he can bond with you.

There’s a lyric from that song “Noble Aim” by Sleeping At Last that sings:

Every broken branch and loosened leaf
That we’ve grown to ignore,
Is now a part of something greater than before.
Every nest that rests upon our limbs,
Seeking shelter from the storms,
Is a purpose worth being broken for.

I think that’s why He brought me here. This is us bonding. This is Him asking me: Who are you? What do you want? And what is the first step?

I think He’s telling me stop looking for jobs because he knows I’ve applied to so many. And I think He’s telling me to stop listening to everyone who tells me to get a job because He knows many have told me that. I think He’s telling me to continue with Hold On Another Day. To follow my passion. I think He wants me to go to India. And to write more.

So you know what I’m going to do?

I know you know what I’m going to do.

I’m stick with Hold On Another Day.

I am going to spend my summer working, but I am going to spend my Fall traveling.

To Europe.

To India.

To wherever.

And I’m going to write about all of it.

Because “we tend to put ourselves into categories to be safe. We spend more time preparing rather than actually doing.”

Thank you both for all you have done for me. I hope you are well. I hope I see you soon.


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Dear Chris & Jeannie:

I am writing to you from this blog of mine because you are in the Smokey Mountains and probably don’t have much service. Or maybe by the time I actually post this, you’re in Florida. Or Texas. I would write you a letter (because you know how much I love doing that) but your address is currently a blue Prius and I don’t think a mail carrier will have any luck tracking you down. So I am speaking to you here (and whomever else decides to read this) to tell you about this little adventure I am on.

It started with a book.

Chris, you gave me your copy of Donald Miller’s “Blue Like Jazz” to read and start understanding what faith and Christianity are about. Maybe you thought he would speak to me. Or maybe you were tired of me asking you so many questions. I don’t think you were because I’m pretty sure we both enjoyed our “Life Group” chats and “Meat Monday” burger discussions. Whatever the reason, this book helped me relate to many questions and misunderstandings I had been having in my life.

Then there was a second book called “Love Does.” I didn’t tell you I started reading it, mostly because I started reading it by accident. I was buying some running books on Amazon and for some reason the name Bob Goff was stuck in my head after our Acadia camping trip. You told me the story about the interviews with world leaders; and the boat. You told me I would get a kick out of Bob, so I looked him up in Amazon and came across “Love Does.” I’ll admit I bought the book because I liked the cover and title. They tell you to “never judge a book by its cover,” and I think that’s true for people, but not always true for books. I judged this book by its cover and it worked out pretty well for me.

My point is: I started reading Love Does and after two chapters, I put the book down on my bed, moved to my desk and started writing Bob a letter. I just felt compelled to do so because you were right: I got a kick out of him and the way he views, well, life and love.

I did a little more research about Bob and heard about the Love Does conference in Tacoma, WA. I thought about going, but knew I couldn’t afford the conference tickets AND airfare. I figured there would be other opportunities and went back to reading. I kept reading and found so much truth in his stories. The next night during my “pre-going to bed Twitter check, “ I noticed a Tweet from Bob mentioning someone had purchased tickets to the conference to be given to someone who couldn’t afford to go. He had tweeted this seven hours ago, so I figured someone had already gotten them.

But, I was curious and thought “what if?” What if the tickets were still available? Would I fly out to Seattle by myself to go meet some author I just started reading? Would I go to a conference based on love and Jesus – a person I was just getting to know? Would that be really awkward for me to go when I’m new to all of this?

I sent Bob an e-mail and asked. I told him a little bit about my story. I told him I had just sent him a letter and he could read that to know a little more about me. I told him I lived in Boston but that I could pay the airfare to come out or a few days if he could give me the tickets.

Twenty minutes later he responded. He told me that if I got on a plane and flew out to Tacoma, the tickets were mine.

So you know what I did?

I know you know what I did.

And just like that, I booked a flight, took off work and now I’m in Washington.

Some people think it’s just me being ridiculous again and spending all the money I just saved to travel. Some people told me to be careful I’m not “getting myself into a cult,” while others smiled and said “of course you did.”  But I like that someone called it a “great leap of faith,” the most. Because that’s how it feels – a leap of faith.

I have no idea what to expect from this. This is one of my more spontaneous decisions – to fly across the country to meet someone I only know through a book; to learn about spreading love when I can barely accept it myself; and to hear people talk about following the footsteps of Jesus, who is someone the two of you only recently introduced me to.

But I’m not scared – I’m incredibly excited! This “leap of faith” reminds me that I’m ready to be a part of all of this. I’m done hiding in my own darkness or surrounding myself with unanswered questions that remain unanswered because I’m afraid to ask or know the answer. I do want to know what love does. What it can do. And how Jesus can help you have that. I kind of like this guy. I’m grateful you both helped him find me. And even more that you didn’t just let me slam the door in his face when I couldn’t understand how you expected me to believe Noah actually built an ark and filled it with animals. I’m still working on all of this, but, I just wanted you both to know this little story. I thought you might get a kick out of it! ;-)

I have two days full of love and Jesus. I will write to you both again after and let you know how it goes.

Spontaneity is a very real and very beautiful action.

P.S.

Your adventures keep me wanting to have adventures.


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Girl: I don’t like art.
Boy: That’s not good for you.

Overheard this today while I was volunteering in an art room at a boys and girls club. That same little boy sat at a table with me and we drew together for an hour. He showed me a book of flowers and wanted me to help him pick one to draw. He thought about drawing a yellow one, but hesitated and finally decided “I don’t like these so I’m just going to make up my own flower.”

My heart melted.

Believe in kids.

They are brighter than we think.

They are still creative.

They still have an imagination.

And we should always do our best to make sure they never lose that.

Because we should never lose that.

The end.


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Just listen.

When you work in a hostel, you meet some interesting people.

Interesting in the sense that the people traveling through your doors are always bringing new languages, foods and, wonderfully enough: stories from around the world.

There was the guy who just got back from the Peace Corps where he lived on a coffee farm in Costa Rica. He actually stumbled into the cafe while I was working – wondering about our nightly rates and, I think most importantly, about our coffee.

One morning I had a tall, lanky guy with the body of an ultra-runner ask to borrow my blender. I found this odd, even more so when he used an avocado in the smoothie he was constructing in the corner. Turns out, the smoothie has a life-changing story. Though he grew up in California, he had spent the past two years exploring the world… “just because.” He did some volunteering in a few places and when he fell ill from protein deficiency, he wrote to a “food blogger” friend who sent him a smoothie recipe. It helped rebuild his energy and he let me try it. I highly suggest this life-saving smoothie.

The people who stay in a hostel bring stories along with their broken English and over-sized backpacks. Everyone is coming from somewhere different and going somewhere different. Some of them are looking to leave something behind or to just escape it for awhile. Others are on business or resting while continuing on to New York or Montreal.

Boston is sometimes merely a pit stop for short conversations with fellow travelers.

I love that I can be a part of these adventurers stories. Mostly, in the cafe, I contribute through smiles and music. I’m finding that many foreign travelers enjoy Ben Howard (mostly some French and German folks) and that the perfect song can help kickstart someone’s morning when you have no idea what lies ahead of them.

I’m surrounded by new people all with something interesting going on that reminds me of how brilliant life is. But one guest’s story stays with me.

I saw her standing outside the cafe one morning as I locked my bike across the street. She was smoking a cigarette with a boyish charm complimenting her gentle smile. She was wearing a shirt that read “Science is Awesome” or something of that sort.

I’ll call her Fran because she was from San Francisco. She was interesting and I’ll be honest to say she made me really nervous at first. That morning, she came into the cafe for a coffee and spent the next hour pacing, slowly, in circles around the cafe. She was just smiling and staring at her cup. She said nothing. I said nothing. And it made me nervous.

But that upset me because I am a person working in hospitality and a person who cares about mental health. Yet, I immediately assumed she wasn’t right in the head. So I told myself to ignore her until she leaves. Don’t get involved. She could be dangerous.

Because that’s what the stigma does. It ingrains in our brains that these people just shouldn’t be talked to. That we shouldn’t get involved with people who pace in circles,or talk to themselves or holler at people on the streets. “These people are dangerous” is tattooed to our thoughts, as if it were able to pick up a signal on anyone who suffers from mental health. And when the signal gets picked up, it warns you to say away and build yourself a force field.

That’s not right.

So when Fran sat down, I went over and said “hello.”

It took one simple word to change everything.

Within seconds of speaking with her, I knew she was suffering. I knew she had been waiting, hoping, praying someone would talk to her so she could talk to them. She needed someone to just listen. I decided to be that person for her.

She told me about her life in San Francisco, working in technology. She was really excited about a scooter she had just built. I was really excited to meet someone who could build a scooter. But her story kept switching from the good and the bad. The good being her job; her dog; and her confidence in her skills and knowledge. I could tell she was a smart woman.

But the bad was all very dark and consisted of a long history of being bullied for her sexual identity and the fact that she “dressed like a boy.” She had no real family – they disowned her when she came out as being gay. She grew up in a small, rural area that was very conservative and apparently chased her out of the area for “her sins.” She kept going on about people who would follow her, taunt her and just yell horrible things to her outside her apartment.

In my mind, I deemed her “paranoid.”

I tried very hard to just listen and not stereotype her, but it’s hard. It’s really, really hard. And I’m a person who knows these stereotypes and stigmas are wrong. I am a person who knows very well how hard it is to hear people use terms like “bi-polar” or “depressed” as if they applied to every day life. I am a person who suffers and these words mean something to me; so how could I just allow my mind to use them against someone else without knowing their story? I was angry with myself for this.

But it’s hard to not think that when someone tells you people lined their hotel room with paint thinner to “get rid of her.”

Maybe that did happen. I guess we can all choose which story we want to believe, but I am not here to say whether or not those things really happened. If she tells me those are true, all I know is her story.

But I am just here to listen.

So I let her tell me about all the bad things that had been happening to her and around her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the day before the Boston Marathon bombings occurred she had the thought of “I should move to Boston because it seems like a safer city than San Francisco and I need security.” I didn’t know how to answer her questions; I didn’t have any good advice to give. I wrote down some resources for her – of safe places where should could talk about these issues with other people or to get help if she needed it. She had a lot of baggage and a lot of shit going on.

But she kept thanking me for talking to her.

A couple days went by and every morning when she would come into the cafe I would check in with her. Some days she was “okay” or “doing better,” and she had gone on a few job interviews. Today was her last day and when she came into the cafe for breakfast, I’d never seen such a big smile.

“I’m leaving today! I’m going back to San Francisco; I have an interview with a few companies and I think I’ll get one of the jobs. I found a new place to live and I feel so much better.”

She looked much better. She sounded much better. I don’t know if she’ll be okay in the long run, but she seemed to carry herself pretty well. I smiled and told her I was happy for her. She thanked me and the rest of the staff at the hostel for being so hospitable. She said she just needed to get away from everything for awhile, to clear her head and figure life out. And that she was happy to be able to do so surrounded by good people.

I handed her her coffee and she thanked me again for listening to her. She said she thinks she is going to get the job she is interviewing for and that she had a wonderful time in Boston.

I told her “I think someone is looking out for you.” And she said “I know, I looked up and God smiled. He smiled for me.”

I don’t know everything, in fact I’m still learning quite a lot.  But, what I do know is that rather than keeping to ourselves, I think what we all need is the courage to make friends with one another. I admit that I’ve done this before – by plugging myself into my phone on the bus or ignoring people on sidewalks.

We’re afraid that if we talk to other people, we might actually have to hold a conversation.

But sometimes those conversations are the few minutes that someone just needs to help them feel heard. I caught myself doing exactly what everyone else does when it comes to mental health – turning a blind eye to the person with their head down.  Ignoring the person we can tell needs help.

But I caught myself and what I learned is that we just need to always love people.


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There’s a quote from the children’s book “Lily’s Purple Plastic Purse” that I keep hanging on my wall and it reads: “today was a difficult day, tomorrow will be better.”

It’s been hard to believe those words this week as I traveled down the East coast away from my home in Boston.

I love traveling and exploring new places, but I’ve felt so disconnected from my loved ones these past few days that I am itching to just hug everyone and never leave the cobblestone streets of the bean ever again.

A few days ago I saw a post on twitter stating the need for a restoration of faith in humanity.

This made me think.

I wanted to respond and tell her that among all this pain and suffering, that incredible things are always happening around the world. But as things unfolded in Boston and the world shook away lives in Japan or explosions continued to occur in third world countries, I found it hard to find the right response. I thought I could tell her about my passion for mental health and the organization I started to put a positive light out there. I could tell her about the good people at To Write Love On Her Arms who surrounded me with love and kindness these past few days; or my friends at Krochet Kids who help women in third world countries live better lives. I could name hundreds of organizations that present hope and optimism for our world, but that didn’t feel like the right response.

Because maybe that isn’t what we need to know right now.

Maybe what we need is beyond a list of good names versus the bad.

This week has sucked. We’ve been through hell. Boston has actually been tortured by the evil that lies within the human capacity. And I’ve caught myself wondering a lot lately – about how I could walk the same streets of the bombers and look at the world and see beautiful people, all the while they see something they want to leave broken. It’s sad; it’s disheartening; and this woman on twitter had such a valid thought: what is wrong with humanity.

On Friday, I took a little break from the world. I spent some time in Orlando, FL with an old family friend – a mother who, back when I was a kid, used to babysit my siblings and I. Once when she was in Ohio, I babysat her three kids for her and we had an adorable moment looking at how things change over time.

I got to see the now four kids after three years. I could’ve cried looking at how big they’ve grown. In my memories they are babies. In my memories Max was 3 months old and sleeping in my lap. Now he’s a ball of energy wanting every bit of my attention.

So I spent the evening playing with four kids, pretending to be animals and that we were the only ones who existed in our make believe world. It was exactly what I needed – to just forget about everything bad for a couple hours; to remember what it was like to be a kid where pain was only felt when you fell off your bike or were stung by a bee.

And then it happened.

I was playing a game with Max. We had three little balls that you had to toss and try to land at a certain point. There were rules and he had a rule book, but only he could read the rules because I wasn’t the keeper of the rules. So he made me close my eyes while he told me these guidelines.

The rules were crazy and they made no sense. There were trees and jungle animals you had to avoid. We were travelers on a mission being given directions to find the secret treasure that could only be unlocked if you made the ball land in a certain way. At one point the ball was supposed to bounce off the ceiling, roll around the diamater of the room, bounce back up to the light and land perfectly in a tiny hole on the other side.

And when Max wasn’t looking, I opened my eyes and peeked over his shoulders while he read aloud from what was simply an address book.

He wasn’t even really reading it. He was staring around the room and I realized we weren’t in the same place. Me, I was in a living room where Wreck It Ralph was playing in the background. But Max – that little boy was in a jungle searching for buried treasure.

I started to tear up. I would’ve cried if it wouldn’t have been weird.

But it was in that moment that I found the answer to restoring our faith in humanity: the simple fact that kids continue to believe in their imagination is reason enough to have hope for a better tomorrow.

Because that means kids can look at the world and still see something amazing and beautiful. As adults, we tend to recognize the darker areas; the places we avoid and the people we’re afraid of. When you grow up the world becomes a scarier place. When you’re a kid, it’s all an adventure you set out on to see how wonderful your journey can be. Holes you fall into lead you to a cave of wonder and the bad guys can’t harm you when you’re stronger and move faster.

We can spend our days in a sorrowful daze wondering how the hell we’re supposed to heal these open wounds, but what I’m learning is that when we face these hardships, it’s important to remember how small all of us once were. Kids don’t know how to wonder about these things yet – about disasters and tragedies. Sure they experience fear, but if you asked me what moments of trauma occurred in the world when I was three, I would have to google it.

Not to say kids don’t feel pain or experience trauma from certain events; what I mean is, I think we can see humanity being restored by looking through the eyes of a child. Those big, beautiful blue eyes that continue to wonder about the world. Those eyes widened by a natural curiosity of the world and of the mind.  Because when you’re little and young you believe that anything is possible – you look at a room and you see a mountain to climb and a swimming pool is a lake infested with snakes you have to battle.

I think we find humanity in our sense of childlike wonder. We have to continue to believe in fairytales; in the books we used to read or how our bikes used to be our pet horse. We have to continue to wonder about the world; to believe in our imaginations because I think it’s in doing that that we are able to see what the rest of the world doesn’t in the darkest of times.

Kids grow up and some become cynical and see a black and white world that runs in a straight line until it ends. Others grow up and never lose that childlike wonder that keeps the color alive; that keeps the rest of the world  dancing, on its toes, waiting to see the light.

Maybe this only makes sense to me. But I think that maybe if we just think about the dreams we had as kids; the imagination that we may have lost; and in restoring that, in continuing to believe in our dreams and in continuing to believe in the kids who will one day grow as tall as us; that those people are going to fix all of this. Because they will carry with them the reality that the people who think they are crazy enough to change the world ( the ones that imagine enough) are the ones that really do.

Don’t give up on your dreams.

Don’t forget about your imagination.

And never stop wondering about the world.


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I am writing this one to”Great Lakes” by Telekinesis.

I like that I’m writing again.

It comes from being inspired, which I am after my adventure in Portland.

I was in the airport terminal at PDX listening to this Dad explain things to his son. It was really cute. Mostly because the kid was so damn curious.

The Dad saw me watching and smiled. I can’t wait to have that.

(Households by Sleeping At Last is on now, which is fitting)

But I was thinking how great being a parent will be ’cause I love crafts and stories and having a family means doing that all the time.

But then I was looking at all the people around me and how different we all are. We’re all at different stages.

(Blue Mind by Alexi Murdoch)

And I caught myself watching this really skinny girl carrying a tiny dog. She was pretty so I don’t know why she had so much make up on. Society would have me envy her small frame hidden in over-sized sweaters.

But I didn’t. And then I was buying granola when I saw Miley on the cover of Cosmo, squeezing her breasts together. being confident in your body is great (it’s something I wish I had) but why do we do that? Why is being half naked on a magazine a thing?

I’ll never understand that.

But I do think it’s beautiful how different we all are.

In how we look.

In how we think.

In how we move.

In how we love.

 

That’s what I love most about airports too.

We’re all coming together with the same common goal of going somewhere else. Of leaving that one point.

But we all do it differently and for different reasons.

Airports reflect humanity well.

And they’re great for people watching.


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Remarkable.

The was the word my friend used to describe my passion for others.

Whenever people give me letters or cards, I save them for a moment when I know I’ll be able to read them without any distractions.

And when I’m in a place where I can cry because I usually cry when I read or hear things people say about me.

I’m sensitive and I cry when something makes me feel good.

Or bad.

So what?

Anyway, she wrote some really nice words about me and I think I needed to hear those things from someone else.

I’m a pretty selfless person and I don’t say that to be modest because that’s just who I am. I love other people’s birthdays more than my own and I love buying small gifts for people when they remind me of them. 

I just think it’s great and important to remind people that you care about them.

I tend to put others first simply because that’s how I operate. I look at the world and find ways to help others because I’m lucky enough to have a family that cares about me and would never not support me.

Someone asked me once if I was born with a heart of gold.

Maybe I was. I don’t really know where this comes from. 

Maybe it happened when I saw that J-LO movie, “Glitter,” and though it was a silly movie, I remember a quote from it that said “Never take anyone for granted in life because you never know when you might lost them.”

When I was younger my siblings and I used to be bullied for being wealthy. We were pinned as “spoiled rich girls” and I just always found that silly because I’ve always worked in a restaurant and i’ve always been thankful that my parents worked as hard as they did so they could provide for their family. So I never really understood why people would judge me for having the last name of an India doctor. My dad makes alot of money, I would rely on cash tip outs to buy food at Sonic with my friends.

Things like that stick with me. Things people say stick with me. I keep a journal where I just write things people say – to me, about me, or things I overhear and just want to remember. 

But, anyway, it was nice to hear my friend say something so nice because when you’re selfless, you forget to pat yourself on the back. And when you’re sensitive and feel unappreciated, you feel lonely and like you don’t matter.

It’s a balancing act and I’m getting better at it.

Someday I hope to find someone who will help me balance that.

My friend is a really good friend and I am happy that we had a brilliant adventure together and that we both recognize each others remark ability.

I am going to write her something nice back now. Because that’s what you do when someone says something nice. Especially when you think the person deserves to know those nice things about themselves.

This is why I live writing letters.

And sending mail.

I like reminding people that someone thinks highly of them. 

That even if they don’t know it, someone is thinking of them or had a moment where they were inspired by them.

People should write more letters.

And be more honest with their words.

Life is too short not to tell someone something.

I’m realizing that now and I’m getting better at it.

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