Dear Unsealers,

This note is something that I’ve done for the last two years. As my friend Chari Pere posted about the things that she had done in the last year. The following is this years list.

In the last year…

I’ve moved on from a job of eight years and found a new, albeit temporary job

The trip to Italy happened after a two year delay

I took in the view from the roof garden of The Met

The Roger Waters concert at MSG happened after a two year delay

I’ve taken to reading and posting my poems on Instagram, Youtube, Swell & Tiktok

I had a mini Made To Do This reunion in person, meeting Rachel Jackson, Kristina Tickler Welsome & Jayati Vora for dinner

I awoke the abundant me

I took in the beauty of “The Beautiful Blue Danube” and clapped along to “The Radetzky March” during the Salute To Vienna concert .

I’ve completed Amy Kay’s “Poem A Day” challenge during NaPoWriMo

I got to see the musical “Company” during it’s Broadway run

I got to meet Victoria Williams during her stay in NYC

I challenged myself by taking Megan Falley’s “Poems That Don’t Suck” course

I’m hosting an open mic for writers and poets with disablities on 3/30

I have my next trip booked for the end of September, to Greece; with one more on the cards before the year ends.

I’m taking steps to become a more independent adult

I know this list doesn’t cover everything that’s happened in the last year.

I’m trying to move my life into a more positive direction

It doesn’t feel like things are happening, though

I won’t stop trying to make forward progress with my life.

Posted on the first anniversary of my Pepere’s passing.

I absolutely adored my Pepere* Hebert. He was a man larger than life and a heart of gold. When I was younger as a joke he would take the Doritos that I would have with my lunch, which would send me into a fit of crying because those were my favorite chips. As I grew older I saw both a silly and sensitive side to my Pepere. One day he would be giving his bride, his wife of over 50 (maybe 60) years a hotdog as a Christmas present, the next he’d be comforting me over the phone and reminding me that he loved me as I cried about lost friendships. I adored this man that would do anything for his family, that would do anything to see me smile. He was my hero saving the day countless times whether it was pulling a pin my sister had gotten stuck in her foot out of her foot (because I was too scared and squeamish to do it myself) or whether it was driving two hours to pick up my prom date whose car had broken down so that I didn’t have to go to prom alone. Every weekend he would take a leisurely ride past those of the children and grandchildren who lived in the area. My mom tells me he did this to make sure we were all ok. I grew up visiting him and my Memere almost every Friday night. If we ever skipped a Friday he was sure to call on Saturday asking when we were coming over. And when we were about to leave he would also exclaim “sabre** come again.” Anyone who visited was sure to feel welcome by the warmth of my Memere and Pepere’s home and the love that they exuded. Both of them were so generous with their time, treasure, and talent.

Perhaps the greatest lesson that my Pepere taught me was to never give up. Though he had several health issues he was never one to sit on the sidelines and wait for death. He found different ways of doing his hobbies. Around Thanksgiving of 2022 both my grandparent’s health declined and they were both in the hospital. My Pepere pressed on and started doing better. My Memere’s health unfortunately declined and she passed away on December 23rd (I’ll write a letter about how much I loved her later on). The funeral for her came and went. The months in between my sweet Pepere couldn’t catch a break. His health was declining. My mom and her sister would visit every day to take care of him and help him with things. In February my parents came downstate (I live 7 hours away from them but still in the same state) to attend another loved one’s funeral. After the funeral we got the news that my Pepere’s health was declining and the end was near. I packed my bag and made the choice to head up North to see him one last time. Little did I know that I would be the one that he would choose to be beside him holding his hand when he was actively dying. I noticed his eyes were sort of open, but they were a different color than the deep brown they had always been and they were glazed over. I called for my mom and she told me it wouldn’t be long. She was right. He passed away within minutes.

I took bereavement time off from work to attend the funeral and to process all that had happened. Trying to move forward and to create some sense of normalcy I decided to go to a little café/gift shop for breakfast that day. I ordered and ate my breakfast. Then I lingered to look at what was in the gift shop. Amanda Gorman’s book “Call Us What We Carry” caught my eye. I debated whether or not to buy it in my head. As if reading my thoughts this little old man seated at a table not far away asks if I know who that is to which I respond yes. He then asks if I am going to buy the book and I answer that I am not sure. Without skipping a beat this man pulls out $20 and places it in my hand and tells me to buy the book. He tells me he does a nice thing for someone every day and today I was the recipient of his kindness. I could’ve cried right then and there. This man didn’t know me, he didn’t know that I had just lost my Pepere, he didn’t know I was grieving, he didn’t know that I had come to this café to find some normalcy when my world had been crumbling down. The only thing this man knew was that his kindness mattered. That moment didn’t cure the grief that I was and that I still feel about the passing of my Pepere, but it sure did bring a smile to my face. I believe that my Pepere put this man in my path to show me that he was watching over me.

That day the little old man was a testament to the quote “everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about. Be kind.” I issue that same challenge to you today. Be kind to everyone you meet. It doesn’t have to mean buying something for someone, it could be as simple as smiling at someone or opening the door for them or entering into conversation with a stranger. You’ll never know how your kindness will impact another person. Let us choose to carry kindness with us wherever we go.

*Pepere is the French word for grandfather. It is pronounced pep/ehh. Memere is the French word for grandmother. It is pronounced mem-ehh.

**Sabre cannot be directly translated but is a French expression that indicates happiness, joy, contentment. And it was always said with that disposition too.

Dear Self,

As I look back into my past actions, I realize that there were things that I should have changed. It’s interesting how so many authors, politicians, philosophers have written about ‘the past’ in relation to our present selves, but we continue to belabor the point. McCarthy states in All the Pretty Horses, that “Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.” Without this reminder, we won’t learn the lessons that the past has taught us, but rather repeat them mindlessly as if we don’t know any better. As I recall my worst mistake, I realize today, that it could have been circumvented by simply communicating clearly. However, if you’re like me, and the problem is within the family, you omit speaking in order to be respectful and not hurt the feelings of those you love.
I’ve also learned, that when you speak your mind and express yourself concisely, you get the result you need: understanding. Without talking, how can others know how you’re feeling, or even how you’re affected by a particular event? Added to that, by discussing the problem, calmly, you get to see the different perspectives that each individual is coming from, rather than assuming you already know. I’ve learned that assuming someone’s motives for an action may be wrong, and that is what leads to greater misunderstandings and conflict.
I think that Katherine Anne Porter says it best, as she expresses it best in saying: “The past is never where you think you left it.” By that she means that with the information, maturity you had at the time, you can grasp a part of the events that occurred. However, in retrospect, having changed, become wiser through various experiences, makes your perspective of the event change with time. Here I don’t mean the actions that took place, but rather the reactions and assumptions that you had made.
I’ll sum up with my poetic version of this:

Communication is a tool
You use to oppress the pool
Of depression, that spawns from regret
Over actions taken in past event.

Couch your speech,
Make it into a delicate flower to preach
Behaviors that promote, compassion,
Understanding, love, and devotion.

Best,
Your wiser self

©️ Malak kalmoni chehab ©️

I could say I’ve known you forever, but that wouldn’t seem quite right. I guess I’ve known you for as long as I can remember. But even then, I’ve only known you partially. You’ve revealed yourself in different ways over the years and given me new reasons to love you. You’ve made days worth it. You find meaning in the little things and you know how to dress up a dollar. You go out of your way to make things inclusive and memorable. Most of all, you keep trying when you feel like you have no clue what you’re doing or where you are going.

We lose contact every once in a while. Sometimes I think I’ll never be with you again. It’s not like I lost your phone number, or you moved far away. It’s just sometimes I forget you’re there. I forget how to access you. In the past, I’d retreat further and further away before I remembered you exist and how to make contact. But now, I know to reach out a little sooner. You always know what to do and how to make things better.

There’s really no difference between me and you. The separation happens when I compare parts. I look at you as the “healthy version of me” but I should just be seeing me when I’m healthy. Rather than thinking of you as the “me” that I love, I’ll just love me. I’ve learned it’s a lot easier and more genuine to love when you aren’t doing it in parts. So, one day soon, I’ll just love me. After all, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

Dear Sports,

Sometimes love comes into our lives early and easily. That’s the case with you. I remember meeting you around age four or five, but it could have been even younger. I lived on a cul-de-sac, and all the kids on our street would regularly play kickball in the circle. We’d play for hours, sometimes mixing in tag or hide and seek. Without much effort, I could always keep up with the older kids. And every time I tried a new sport, it took me no time to figure it out. But it wasn’t until my parents signed me up for organized soccer with kids my age that I realized I was athletic. I was faster than everyone else. And scoring goals was easy. Immediately, I was hooked. I loved competition. And quite frankly, I loved winning.

While I played many sports throughout my childhood, soccer became my primary sport. I played on club, school, and select teams. Soccer allowed me to see the world, as I was chosen to play on a team that competed as far as Italy when I was 15 years old. Besides competition, sports introduced me to my best friends – many of whom I am still close with now.

I am forever grateful that you, sports, came into my life.

As an adult, I no longer play on competitive sports teams. And I probably don’t work out as much as I should. But you are still an essential part of my life. You shaped me into the person I am today. You, sports, taught me how to push through adversity. You showed me the power of a good and consistent work ethic. Through you, I developed tremendous confidence and mental toughness, which serves me well every single day of my life. And when I have a long week or am frustrated or scared, I can still turn to you for peace. I’ll rollerblade along the water for miles or lift at the gym.

While many loves in our life come and go, there are some rare ones that not only come early and easily but also last a lifetime.

I love you always.

Your old friend,

I’ve been where you are. I’ve always been a bit of a perfectionist myself. I don’t think that’s all bad as we are called to excellence. However, it can make life kind of stressful. Your need for perfection can then spiral into overthinking every little move you make, criticizing yourself for things outside of your control, and shame that is totally unnecessary. You look in the mirror to find that your own worst enemy is staring back at you. You worry that if you make one mistake that people will see you as incapable and incompetent. You’ll show them you can do it all. Until you can’t. Suddenly you feel yourself teetering on the tightrope about to plummet to the ground. This was me before the pandemic started. I believed the lie that this rat race world feeds us that we must stay busy, we must produce results. So I took on added responsibility thinking I could juggle it all and also what was going on in my personal life. But really I was on the edge of burnout. My mental health was not good. My work was suffering. I was exhausted. To make matters worse my boss talked to me about my performance without asking what was going on in my personal life that was making it that way. She seemed to see my poor performance as a character flaw rather than the fact that a check engine light was on, and I desperately needed help. Deeply distressed and beating myself up for my mistakes I ended up with a fender bender. Luckily no one was hurt, but inside I was really hurting.

In 2020 the pandemic forced everything to a screeching halt. I went to my parents, house with no idea of how long I was going to be there. My parents and I were all working at home under one roof. The extra family time was a much needed blessing. My schedule usually filled to the brim with things to do was completely open for the first time in a long time. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up doing a lot of thinking and realized that I don’t need to do everything. I am human, I make mistakes and I’m going to continue to. When I do make a mistake I can choose how I respond. I can choose to respond with grace and self-compassion. I don’t have to spiral, I don’t have to walk the tight rope. A mistake doesn’t automatically mean falling. I started to prioritize more and suddenly I was worrying less and less about what others thought about my mistakes and taking the opportunity to let my mistakes teach me a lesson.

Sweetheart I know you want to move mountains and you will. But spiraling won’t get you there. Beating yourself up won’t make you stronger, instead it will tear you down more. You need to learn to rest. You need to learn that your mistakes don’t define you. Learn to embrace your humanity. Learn to love yourself the way that you would love a friend. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of self-forgiveness. You are worthy to live a life that includes mistakes because if you haven’t noticed everyone else is too. When you learn these things you’ll be freer, happier, healthier, and holier. If you don’t hear anything else in this letter hear this; unlike St. Paul, you can’t be everything to everybody, but instead of being your own biggest enemy, you can learn to look in the mirror and embrace yourself in grace and self-compassion.

With love,

Fidgeting and nausea must be a natural state for you. Movement seems to disperse a bit of that nervous energy, but the feeling of your stomach turning is enough to make your mind go blank. I spent most of my life stuck in this mode, chalking it up to a hyperactive personality and a sensitive stomach. But looking closer at my life, I could see the mismatch that was provoking all of this movement. My body was telling me to go somewhere and all I was letting it do was twiddle thumbs and do internal somersaults. I needed to move, but not just physically, I needed to move into my body and start listening to what it was telling me.

I’ll never forget the beginning of my therapy journey when I explained my visceral anxiety and the advice I was given was “You need to breathe.” Breathe? I’m always breathing. How could I be breathing any better? I came back the next week to tell her “This breathing thing isn’t making a difference; I need something else.” She laughed at me and said, “That’s all I got for you.” So, I kept breathing. Deeper, longer, more fully, more expansive, more peacefully. And now when I start to squirm or my stomach starts to turn, I can take a deep breath and get clear about what I am feeling.

I know it feels like trying to stop a freight train with your bare hands when the nervousness gears up, but the more often you recognize that chugging and start to pump the brakes, the more often you won’t have to compare your feelings to four-ton vehicles going 50 mph. Also, the more often you get to be present in moments and make conscious decisions. Breath is a place of peace as much as power. And life is so much better when you take a deep breath.