THE LETTER BETTER WRITTEN

"I wrote him a letter. I told him that he should grow up, that he should take better care of himself, that his health was fragile (he had sclerosis of the bile duct, a sky-high liver count, extensive ulcerative colitis, he had just recovered from an attack of hyperthyroidism, and every once in a while his teeth hurt!), that he should get his life on track because he was still young, that he should forget the woman who'd "broken his heart," that he should buy a washing machine. I spent a whole afternoon writing it and then I ripped it up and started to cry."
—page 440, The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño

There are moments when I am reading a book whereupon it intersects with my own life, so much so that I have to pinch myself to make sure that I am not a character. Who needs self-help books when a piece of literature can accomplish the same goal in a few sentences? The above passage speaks to me. It says: grow up, you are an adult, remember? It says: take better care of yourself, you are mortal, remember? It says: move, be dynamic rather than stagnant, pursue your dreams, you are creative, remember? It says: don't look back, learn from your mistakes, because you do have much to live for, remember?

I do remember. Sometimes, however, it is difficult to move from remembering to building anew. That is when a good prod from a friend or a family member or even a stranger is helpful.

I have received a few of those prods this past week. They are appreciated. (You know who you are, with your phone call, your email, your conversation, and I thank you.)

Write the letter. Read the letter. Rewrite the letter, if necessary. Don't rip it up. Deliver the letter.