Letters by Kenny Mah

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Nothing is Happening

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July 4, 2012

Hey you,

I’m driving us home from dinner. We had ramen despite the warm weather; something hot and soupy was needed to ward off the chill of air-conditioned offices and malls. Perhaps that is why we aren’t talking like we usually do during the drive home; we’re too full. Do we need to talk always?

I read a poem by Jack Gilbert recently — Highlights and Interstices — which provides the answer:

We think of lifetimes as mostly

the exceptional

and sorrows. Marriage we remember

as the children,

vacations, and emergencies. The

uncommon parts.

But the best is often when nothing

is happening.

How true. Nothing is happening yet everything is. Our lives. Our life together. This moment. Bellies full from ramen and thoughts of unwinding at home and now me driving and you beside me. Nothing is happening and I can’t imagine a greater blessing.

Yours always and always,

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