THERE’S A YOUNG WOMAN residing in the correctional facility up the road about 30 minutes from here. On Monday, I stared at my screen, wondering what to write to her in response to what she wrote to me. I was trying to figure out what to say instead of what I was really thinking. I knew that, in the end, I’d write my honest opinion, but on Monday I was casting about for something that might go over better.
I met with her a couple of times before she was sentenced, when she was out on bail, waiting to learn her fate, thinking she might not have to go, and I’ve been writing to her for the nearly two years since she went in. I remember the last time we met, when she was still holding out hope of not doing time. Whether she truly believed this or was keeping hope alive for the sake of her parents and husband, I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t my place to say what might happen. That’s the judge’s job. I sat across the table from her at Panera, listening and wondering the whole time how she’d keep the blonde highlights going while inside. (Turns out you can do that. I’m always learning new things.)
On Tuesday, I wrote the letter. I wrote exactly what I was thinking, but better than I would have if I’d responded immediately, if I hadn’t dilly-dallied, waiting for something better to say.
I didn’t have anything better to say.
I just said what I had to say, better.
Dilly-dallying sometimes leads to that. Not always. Just sometimes. If it goes on too long, it’s pure procrastination. But if it’s kept short, it can be a useful tool.
That’s it for now. Just touching base with you.