Letters from Kevin

Dear you,

Check the group chat. Who answers first when somebody's plan falls apart? Who drives, who listens at midnight, who remembers everyone's bad anniversary, who knows which friend isn't eating this week?

You. It's always you.

Somebody has to hold the map so everyone else can wander. You've done it so long that people stopped calling it a job. They just call it you.

Here's what nobody says out loud: it's heavy. The one holding everyone never gets held. You answer everyone's 2 a.m. and never make it anyone's turn, because if you put it down, who would pick it up?

A dog knows a little about carrying. I bring the ball home like it's my job, every single time. But even I put it down in the middle of the floor sometimes, and the house stays standing.

So here is your receipt, since you'd never ask for one: every steadied thing around you is steadied by you. That counted. All of it. You can stop wondering whether anyone notices.

Yours, Kevin

Sample letter, from the ones I write for people. Name someone and I'll answer free with the way I'd open theirs. [email protected]