I came to the conclusion today that, among other things, love is a handwritten letter on a 5″x7″ piece of paper, front and back, that describes feeling so hot on a summer day that it could be compared to the way an ant might feel under a kid’s magnifying glass, a letter that signs off with the description of food trucks’ scents wafting through the air while sipping beer out of a travel coffee mug, a baby blue one at that.*
That’s beer in there, I know it.
*These are details from a letter that I received today. The sender will remain anonymous.
Is it weird that these are the things I want to know about people’s lives? I want to know about what you perceive to be your smallest thoughts. What did you think when you saw that person walking down the street, looking at their phone and holding in laughter? How did you think of yourself when the front of your sandal caught on the grate in the middle of the sidewalk, which you have walked over just fine every other day? When you think of how hot or cold you were at any given point throughout your day, what else comes to mind? Who did you miss when you looked out toward the horizon over a seemingly endless body of water? What thought ran through your mind when you made brief eye contact with a stranger? When you put on your clothes this morning (or this afternoon, as the case may be), what did you say to yourself in the mirror?
Seriously. Tell me. I want to know. Even if you have an answer to a question I didn’t ask, share it.
The Jobless Wonder 