What Grew From a Name

A reflection on friendship, shared direction, and the quiet connections that shape us

For Monica Fernandes proof that connection finds its way when it is meant to 🤍

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What Grew From a Name

We began with something small,
a shared name
caught in passing,
a brief exchange
that opened a door.

It stayed open.

It grew in the spaces
between messages,
in the steady rhythm
of returning.

How are you today.
Did you write.
How are the cats.
How are the dogs.

Small questions,
carrying the structure of care.

Then more.

Long phone calls
stretching across evenings,
where time softened
and conversation deepened.

A writing group
formed in real time,
two people holding space
for each other’s words.

Shared intention.
Shared direction.
A quiet alignment,
understood without explanation.

Days found their way
into each other.
Words followed.
Then trust took hold.

We read each other
with attention,
with presence,
with a kind of care
that reaches beyond the page
and into understanding.

And somewhere along the way
the language shifted.

Writer
to friend.
Friend
to family.

A bond formed
through consistency,
through showing up,
through a mutual commitment
to remain.

She holds a place in my life
that feels steady,
close,
known.

And through her
something larger comes into view.

A truth about this space.

Connection emerges
through proximity and presence.
Meaning builds
through repeated exchange.

A name.
A message.
A moment.

becomes something enduring.

And when it does,
you recognize it.

And you stay.

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Monica² 🤍

Sometimes connection begins with something small
and becomes something that stays.

Today, take a moment to lift someone up.
Tag a writer. Share their work.
Let them know it mattered.

We build more when we build each other.

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