Dear Father Correctional,

I know it has been a long time since my last letter to you. It’s hard to send these sometimes because the universe is wide and vast and I, myself, am not sure whether I believe in the afterlife or not. I suppose these letters are simply built on intention. Or more to the point, I suppose these messages are written with the intent of letting go of what was and recreating the things I wished would be.

Dear Mother Directional,

I was thinking about an unintentional road trip that I took a while back. I say this was unintentional because there was no pre-set intention or direction. I had no place to go or an idea of anywhere I wanted to see. Then again, I suppose none of that mattered.
No, I just sat in the car and allowed myself to drive in whichever direction the car would take me. I had no plans as to how long this drive would be or if I would be back by a certain time. Sometimes drives like this are the best drives of all. Sometimes you just need to unplug yourself.

Dear Mother Directional,

There are so many times when the world tries to teach us something. Dare I say it, there are even more times when the world tries to warn us about ourselves. There are signs we see which we ignore. There are times when people come along and tell us, “Hey, you better watch out” and, of course, we ignore them. There are times when it seems like we are locked in this roller coaster called “life” and there’s nothing we can do until the ride stops or comes to some kind of brief intermission.
I tell you that if there is a devil, he does his best work not by tempting us to do something – but instead, the devil pulls his trick by telling people to stay away. If he is real, I would say that he does this because he knows that curiosity kills us. He knows that the warning builds our interest and this is true. It works. So, if there is a devil, he certainly knows the angles on how to pull off a really good trick.

Dear Mother Directional,

I was thinking about the ending of summer and the transfer between the warmth and the cooler months, like say, the way September rolls in and the heat breaks. Then it’s October. And then November. I was thinking about the holiday months and how they are both happy and sad and both times of great memory and times of big regrets. But that’s the thing about the future; and that’s the thing about introspection – this is hindsight because, of course, at the time of our youth, we lacked the ability to have foresight.

Dear Son, 

This message came for you the other day from Cousin Contagious. I am keeping a copy of this and I am placing this in the collection of letters which you have asked me to hold.
I hope this letter finds you at a good time and shows you that there’s more appreciation for you than you think. 
We all have tough times and, son, we all live through dark moments. I hope that you can see this now and I hope that you read between the lines here.

Love always,
Mother Directional

Dear Mother Directional,

It’s been years since the last time my toes were in the sand. I think this is something that I need to prioritize. This way, I can face the ocean and stare out to the sea and say “Ah.” 
I think we need more times like this. We need more time to say “Ah” and more times when we can find a moment of relief. 

Dear Mother Directional,

I have not shared this idea with anyone. At least, not yet. These letters I write to you are to be held by you with hopes that somewhere, somehow, someone can make sense of this. Maybe then we can understand more about this thing we call life. I am not sure where or when life actually begins. I am not sure if this is at birth or if life begins our rebirth throughout the years. I believe there is a way people can be reborn or at least born again under a new sign or awakened into a new light. I know that this might sound like some religious garble. But no, I think we live each day. I think we are reborn several times and I think we die just as much.

Dear Cousin Contagious,

I think that you would understand this letter more than anyone else which is why I am sending this to you instead of Mother Directional or Father Correctional. First, I want to let you know that regardless of our location or positions in life, I think that you and I can relate on a few things.
I suppose Sister Serenity might understand and perhaps Brother Exceptional would too but there is something different about us.
I am of the belief that there is something different about a person who comes with lived experience. There’s something beneficial about sharing our thoughts or feelings with someone who understands the smell of the Earth or the vomit that occurs after a bad day’s night. 

Dear Mother Directional,

Father Correctional has been on my mind lately. And albeit true, I am thinking about the way I was taught to be and how I was trained to live. I have been considering the blueprints of my life and the plans that I have followed. As well, I have been sifting through my thoughts about my honesty – and honestly, I wonder how truthful we are about the life we live.
What I mean is there’s a question that we ask each other. And we ask this often. It’s a simple question too. But as simple as this is, no one ever answers this honestly. At least, not mostly. The questions we ask when we see each other are interesting to say the least.
We’ll ask “how are you” or “how’ve you been,” but how often do we answer this with an honest response?