Just the Facts
As Requested, Minus Everything.
The other day, a dear friend I hadn’t heard from in a while sent an email, filling me in on her family news and asking me to do the same. I wrote back, telling her what we were up to, from oldest to youngest. This was a system that made sense. Just the facts. I covered health, employment, and any major developments. Making my way down the family, it occurred to me, though only vaguely, that I was being pretty off-handed about checking some big boxes. There were new career paths, new homes, new relationships, a new grandson. Even the things that have stayed the same, like Sam’s weekend pick-up soccer, seemed less noteworthy, reduced to a line item.
My feeling as I set about composing this email was dutiful; okay, here’s what’s happening, blah, blah, blah, starting at the top. Information relayed according to who got here first. Once done, I looked over what I’d written to make sure I hadn’t left anything or anyone out.
Turns out what I’d missed was nothing and everything. The required information was there, but what the email lacked was what all of it meant to me. I guess that reflection piece wasn’t included in the task at hand, but in producing this type of missive, I understood that the sum of life is so much greater than an accounting of its parts.
Life is not just what happens to whom, but how things land, how they connect, what they mean, how they make us feel. What is really happening is anything but blah, blah, blah.
Ultimately, I sent the email. I’d done exactly as requested: I provided the coordinates. It is so annoyingly me, though, that all I want to do is circle back to fill in the universe.