Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

I received two pieces of snail mail today. The kind of mail that you can’t pretend you didn’t get—enveloped in paper, written in ink; intentional words on actual paper.

Both of these letters were gifts for me and both told me exactly what I needed to hear. Below are quotes from each.

Letter 1: “You are a brave and radiant blessing. You are a badass. Celebrating you and your presence in my life and circle.”

Letter 2: “May 10, 2018.”

No, Letter 2 did not get lost in the mail for four years—it’s postmarked May 17, 2022—but the author recycled a letter he wrote to me four years ago on the same topic and couldn’t even bother to change the date.

Letter 1 came from a person who I met a few months ago and who is helping me “ambush fear with my ferocious dream.” Letter 2 came from a person at my college who I have known for five years and to whom I am a relic of the past.

Yesterday asked a question I didn’t know how to answer: How do you know you are moving the right things, making the right space?

Today answered it.