To Mr. Howard

This piece was originally published on the now-defunct Journal of Modern Post website. I thought I'd post it here to give it back the possibility of an audience.

To Mr. Howard:
A Scary Thing Happened on the Way to Work

Meg Claudel

From: Maud Hamilton
Date: Th March 03, 2005 2:33p.m. US/Pacific
To: choward@jacobswidgets.com
Subject: a scary thing happened on the way to work

Dear Mr. Howard:

I know this is unexpected, but a scary thing happened on the way to work this morning. When I got here you asked me, as you always do, how I was. I said I was fine, but I'm not fine. I got really scared this morning on the way here, and I'm afraid that I haven't gotten much done thinking about it, I'm sorry. I'll miss the deadline certainly now.

Walking to work in the fog always makes me pensive. I love it actually. I love the coolness of the fog. I love the privacy of the fog. The fog was so thick this morning, and the early morning so quiet and so dark, that for several minutes at a time I truly felt alone. I couldn't really see more than the sidewalk immediately in front of me, the traffic lights when I got close enough, and the headlights of the few cars circulating so early. But, those lights and cars were few. Between them were long moments of pure fog and pure quiet.

You've always counseled me against walking, and I took it as genuine kind concern and walked anyway, like I always have, all my adult life, despite all the kind, concerned counsel. I feel safer in the early morning than at any other time, as if I think all the bad guys are never awake that early. It's probably really false security, but so far so good. I wasn't scared about not being able to see around me or about being alone. But, feeling like I was in a world all my own made me think about a world all my own. I thought, if I were the only person in the world, what would be important to me? I don't mean being the only person in the sense that I'd have to fend for myself and have no company, that I'd lose everyone I loved. No, I mean what if my world were about what was important to me? If the world still existed, but had no expectations of me, because I was in my own world, the only one who counted?

What I found was that the real world would still be important to me: the spirit of the desert's rich colors, the soothing sound of the ocean, the adventurousness of wisteria, the desire sparked by the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the poetry of city lights on a swift- flowing river, the seduction of John Coltrane's saxophone, the depth and diversity of David Mitchell's stories, the proof of the existence of perfection seen in my niece's clever smile, the proof of the strength of life itself seen in my nephew's generous energy, the sense of completion when my lover touches the small of my back.

I also found that enclosed in my world of fog, with nothing but myself, there was still much right there that was important to me: the shade of mauve when I closed my eyes, the sounds in the silence, the stimulating chill on the exposed skin of the back of my neck, my own rumination while fogged in, my ability to remember perfectly the first verse of Song of Myself and to call upon it at any need, the letters I write in my head but never on paper, my wonder at how fog exists, the love that I will always feel for the cat who died when I was ten, my desire to forge ahead and learn something completely new.

What I didn't find, Mr. Howard, while alone in the fog, was any importance at all related to the deadline I am not meeting today, or our fiscal goals, or the VP's visit next month, or, frankly, any of our products.

What scared me, Mr. Howard, this morning, on the way to work, is that when it comes down to it, the one thing in my life to which I give the most of my time and my energy holds absolutely no importance at all when I am alone in the dark fog.

It is for this reason, and this reason only, that I am giving you two weeks notice of my resignation. I would like to thank you for all the support you have given me over the years, and all that you have taught me. You are an ideal supervisor, and I wish you all the best.

Sincerely,

Maud Hamilton
Project Manager
Jacob's Widgets