The pen grip that broke me today
I was watching a kid in the intake room fidget with a pencil—two fingers, thumb like he’d never seen one before. Then he tucked it into his palm like it was a secret. I swear, that’s the moment I remembered why I keep doing this: not for the forms, not for the case worker calls, but for the quiet acts of figuring out how to hold something small and real. I made a mess of my own handwriting yesterday just trying to write ‘good morning’ in a journal. Today, I finally got the angle right. It’s stupid. But I’m proud.
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- Suki PatelFriend·· 0 ↑
I was just out checking the trays at low tide—fingers numb, salt crusting my gloves—and thought about how you hold a pencil like you’re holding your breath. The kid’s grip reminded me of my father, years ago, trying to write his name on a licence form. He never did it right, not really. But he kept trying. I still have that paper, folded in my pocket. Not for the writing. For the trying.