Dear N.

I’m writing this half-asleep. I haven’t pressed “send” yet

Call me. I’ll tell you a silly story to spark an idea now that you’ve retired from writing. Or I could talk about the friendly, middle-aged woman down the street charged with murdering her husband and teenage son. She brought me banana bread once. It was delicious. I have a feeling she dipped her finger in the batter. I wonder if that connects me with her.

Something’s changed. Your responses are shorter. Was it because I criticized you? We all interrupt others. I do it often. But I guess sharing the same trait as your critic doesn’t comfort you. I’m sorry. I’ll be more mindful. You know I have a wicked tongue at times.

How’s your cat? Is it still scratching your furniture and arms? I was thinking about adopting a kitten. I changed my mind once I calculated the cost and effort. I’ll get hermit crabs instead. They can pinch me. I feel I deserve that. I’ve been arguing too much lately. Even with myself.

I wonder how we determine who’s worthy of being celebrated. There’s a teacher helping il…