Here's the truth about last night

No, your eyes did not deceive you.

Last night, I had the wild-hair idea to send an essay about repetitive music, commonalities with strangers, and thinking-thoughts-all-the-way-to-the-end—that I'd written last May.

Schedule delivery for the morning, I decided, but not before making a few final little tweaks in the dark, on my phone, half asleep.

I woke up feeling foolish. The essay had been sent. I was sure there was a mistake because I was literally falling into zzzzzzzs as I wrote.

I opened my inbox and sure enough, the subheader was less intelligible than a drunk text. And I don't even drink! So unfair.

I wanted to make sure to let you know that the typo is fixed, here's the corrected version. And I also wanted to share my mom’s kind words, too, in case you needed to hear them.

Forgive yourself. You seem more relatable this way. Maybe we are all more relatable this way! Thinking thoughts all the way through to the end can result in messy thoughts. We're all works in progress.

In any case, thank you for reading The Gift. Typos and all, it's better writing with readers. I appreciate you.

Monika
The Gift