Words That Glue Brothers Back Together

             In modern society, we have so many ways of transporting information from one person to another.  People can text, call, email, Skype, etc., but none of these compare to how thoughts and feelings are communicated when pencil is brought to paper. Let's face it, we aren't crunching literary masterpieces into our phones when we text, and we aren't sending sonnets back and forth to each other for casual conversation.  For most people texting is sparsely detailed and relaxed.  There's no intimacy.  There's no weight. Writing is different.  

             Writing is a whole different form of communication.  I use the word communication because it's broad and leaves a world of things to be communicated. When you write, so many different feelings and thoughts pour out of you and the numbers of these feelings and thoughts could be endless. This leaves a world of connection. Thoughts can connect with feelings and feelings can partner up with other feelings while thoughts latch on to other thoughts. Eventually your words will create a mirror.  A perfect reflection of who you are.  There is no better mirror in the world than the one you make when you put your heart into the ink, and this is where the greatest part comes in. 

             Thoughts and feelings are like disease. They shoot off and spread from one person to another.  They're contagious. So, when someone's eyes scrutinize the words you have written, they get sick.  They share your disease.  Their reading and understanding those "diseases" shows how writing is the most effective form of communication.  Your words will hold the power to bring intimacy and understanding to your reader.  And that's why we communicate. We communicate to understand one another, and writing does that better than anything else can. 

           This concept entered my life when I was in middle school.  My birthday marks the death of another. On September 15, 2011 I came home to a grieving brother . His girlfriend had tragically passed away in a car accident that morning. My brother was shattered, and it looked to me that his pieces were too small to simply glue back together.  That day marked the beginning of a two year struggle.  I lost my brother.  I lost sight of who he was. I can't count on my hands how many times I forgot what he looked like. I would sit outside his door wondering who he really was, and feel relief when he locked the handle because I would that he was still alive...to an extent.  But that changed. 

          I took a risk. I snooped. I would sneak into his room and read whatever he had written.  He kept small journals in his nightstand, and I would flip my small fingers across the pages searching for my brother. I did this repeatedly until I finally found him again. Every word I read pieced him back together until he was whole. Sometimes getting sick can fix something broken. Those journals are the only reason I know and understand who my brother is today. Writing saved the relationship between my brother and me, and that is why I believe writing is the greatest form of communication.