It has been a goal of mine to listen well. My father instilled the value of close attention when he was training to be a counselor and practiced on me. I was in middle school and malleable. He taught me tricks like mirroring, and revolving sequence discussion, when other dads were tossing footballs in the back yard. 

 

But recently I find myself in the awkward position of being able to talk without reciprocation. One of my email addresses has reached a saturation point and pushes away messages as quickly as a toddler refuses vegetables. Inexplicably, I can send as many letters as I fancy. 

 

There are techy people in my life who have tried to rectify this problem, but the usual fixes aren't cutting through the log jam. The loss of those messages is sad. It all reminds me of how precious it is to be able to hear what people I care about have to say. 

 

I regret not being able to respond to the dozens of mislaid emails that are lost in space. Some people have been willing to find another channel through which to reach me, which I appreciate. But I fear that others will simply stop trying to talk to me at all. 

 

I suppose it works the same way when we forget how to welcome the spoken word.