"I hope you are ..."

An impromptu contemplation of a common line

The state of something more interesting than “well” — a painting by me

Hello, dear friends,

I hope you are well today, on this Wednesday in May.

Actually, as I type this out, it occurs to me that this common opening fails us.

I hope you are well today.

(A sibling opener: I hope this note finds you well.)

Is that a reasonable hope? Is that even an appropriate hope?

We are humans.

We aren’t always “well.”

That’s a fact. That’s normal. That’s being human.

We are not robots. We have much more interesting and wild lives.

We might be well.

We might be furious, enamored, upset, distraught, hurting, irked, exhausted, frustrated, ticked, joyful, confused, bored, and on and on.

I hope you are well …

Why does it matter to the writer that they catch the reader in a “well” state?

So the reader is in a pleasant, open state, ready to listen to whatever the writer has to say?

Is it so the reader’s needs are a non-issue?

In America, 6 of every 10 people live with a chronic disease. Does “well” exclude them/us? Does “well” lean on the supposed normal of no disease?

I hope you are well … seems a bare-bones acknowledgment of the other person.

I hope you are well … is a nod, but not much more.

I hope you are well … is surface recognition.

Well is also the realm of acquaintances.

How are you? Fine!

It checks the box. It doesn’t go any deeper.

Or maybe this phrase is about some other human desire?

None of us want the other to suffer. Perhaps that is what is at the core?

I hope you aren’t suffering today.

Suffering is bad. Suffering is to be avoided.

But that’s like saying,

I hope the sky is clear and sunny and the air is 72 degrees today.

Yes, but? And if it’s not?

What about all the other modes that are also part of reality? Light spring rain, downpours with fierce lightning, snowflakes, rainbows, hurricanes?

I know. We’re not in conversation truly. I wish we were. This is a one-way train of thought, not a real inquiry that can be answered in real time.

(What is real time? There’s another phrase to be reconsidered.)

I hope you are well …

It’s simply a modern opening line. A placeholder. A doormat. A way in.

We have long ago ceased thinking about what “I hope you are well” means or means about us.

But now that I have thought about it today, and you’ve been unexpectedly forced to think about it with me (at least, if you are still reading! Hello, there!) …

Maybe I should instead write:

I’m glad you’re here.

And I am.

Thanks for being here for this unexpected word exploration with me.

For the record, I’m tired, my throat is scratchy, I’m listening to the rain drops cycle from a pummel to a slow and melodious tinkle; I’m feeling warm and snug under blankets; I’m aware of how intensely grateful I am for spring, and how lucky I am to live in a time when I can type thoughts out quietly, on my own, for pure delight, sending them off to you through magical internet lines under oceans and over satellites, and not be gripping a feather dripping with ink (or as a woman in another era, probably not writing at all, but tending to the fire or the breakfast or the babies).

For the record, I would love to hear how you are actually doing today.

To this day, however you may be,

Brianne