Dennis + Heartlines

When I was 14, my great uncle died and we went to the funeral. It was my dad's uncle, but I was never close with any of the cousins my age on his side. I stood around awkwardly by the food table until I saw my cousin Dennis, whose father had just died, sitting on the floor eating a sandwich. I took my sandwich over and sat there with him. The moment we started talking something special happened: the room melted away and it was just us. Every tense muscle in my body released. I was at peace. He asked if he could see my palm. I had never had anyone take a look at my palms before, and I was nervous. He ran his fingers over my various lines, held my fingers in different formations. Then he said, "You have lots of thoughts, but trouble communicating with the world, don't you?" I had never realized that yes, I have so much trouble communicating. He knew my greatest struggle before I even had a name for what I was experiencing in life. Dennis forever changed the way I think about myself.

Today was a special day. I got to see Dennis at his home in Murrieta. We meditated and played music, talked about books that have changed our lives, we ate Chinese food. And again, he asked for my palm and read it. Today, my lines told me to keep writing, to never stop creating. I love you, Dennis. This one's for you.