Skip to main content

Love Letter 2.0


One of my dearest friends got married recently and I flew all the way from Finland to the US just for the wedding. While I was there I realized that I had known her for the least amount of time compared to the rest of her friends. They all were from grad school, from college, even middle school. Consequently, I had spent relatively less time with her, had fewer memories shared with her. But this did not mean I loved her any less than the rest of her friends who were in the room.

And it certainly did not mean she had had any less of an impact on my life. In the space of a year she has wedged into my heart and become one of my best friends.

Comparisons are dangerous because it is easy to think less of yourself when looking at the shiny exteriors of other people’s lives. In this case, however, I realized that the amount of time I had known her didn’t matter. Whether it be a few months or a year, a few years or a decade, the amount of time does not determine how much of an impact the person will have on your life.

Perhaps my most interesting personal example is a friend who I have never met in person. I met him online through an Indian dating site, back when I was trying desperately to take some measure of control in my life. He was in Viet Nam at the time (the correct spelling of Viet Nam was one thing I learned from him). We talked a handful of times before he suddenly disappeared on me. One day I simply stopped getting any replies to emails. I was disheartened by his desertion and struggled to figure out what in the world I had done to scare him away.

He faded from my memory until six months later when I found an email from him in my inbox. We have talked a few times since then. It was he who persuaded me away from staying in Turku and working on the ships over the summer, the job that pretty much everyone I know seems to be doing. Instead I went to Berkeley and made my personal and professional foundation even stronger.

Some people only come into your life for a season. Sometimes you hate when they leave. Other times you wish that person had never come at all. I’ve had both kinds of people in mine but I have learned that they leave your life when it is time. It might not suit your fancy but it is what is best for you.

And so I thank those people who have stayed in my life no matter how recently we met. And I also thank those who have come and left, who may never see this. You are just as important because you have built me up in your own way.

I love you all.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Monkey Mug

We have these mugs in our house that have Japanese-anime-style whales on them. Their smiles are wide and innocent, the shade of blue in which they swim is pleasant, not the sad kind that makes you cry inside. Years ago, my parents decided they wanted more of these mugs but the store they bought them in no longer stocked them. So we went online and discovered that there were yellow monkey mugs, and pink rabbit mugs too, a whole world of cute animal mugs that kept their chai hot long enough for them to slowly drink it each morning while they read the paper and ate khakra. So they ordered the monkey mugs. My mother only had my dad order 6 of them. Each mug is $12 so this felt like a splurge. The monkey’s joined the whales in the shelf, breaking up the sea of blue with their gentle yellow. She now regrets that decision. These mugs were already a Prized Possession then for their superiority to other mugs. But they are more valuable now because we can no longer find ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Heart of the City

The past week in New York was jarring to say the least. Though the city still makes me overwhelmed by even the smallest of tasks (where do you go to buy a pack of cards??), I have begun to slowly get used to the constant movement of the city and everything that comes with it. The sound of airplanes flying constantly from La Guardia over my apartment doesn't register any more. I can estimate how crowded the train will be based on what time I am leaving my apartment in the morning or TC in the evening. And although the feeling of always needing to do more still raises the specter of anxiety to make everything I do feel inadequate, I've become resigned to its presence to the point that it is part and parcel of the city itself. Solitude is rare in the city, but last week it was the norm All of these things fell apart this week though, one by one, as another phantom seeped into our lives. Starting with an email from our college president that optimistically called off only no...
Post a Comment
Read more

Songs of Stillness

Two weeks ago it felt like the world was ending. The numbers from New York, which captured me with their stunning speed and the realization that I had left just before the situation became so much worse, grew rapidly each day. It began to dawn on the US that this was going to change everything. The grocery stores were filled with empty shelves. Empty shelves could only indicate that the world was ending. Until I heard the birds singing . I was on a run in a park when I heard them. They jolted me out of a reverie thinking about the headlines. Pandemic, economy, toilet paper. I looked around at the space around me in the park. The prairie grass expanded around me even in its dormant winter state. I saw the sky, blue with flecks of white clouds drifting above me. Nature is still in business. Even though the news is dire and the world we humans have built seems to be falling apart at the seams, buds are appearing in the trees. I see birds now on the roof through my childhood bedroo...
Post a Comment
Read more