I sent a pair of quick texts this Mother’s Day Morning, and the odd juxtaposition of the subject matter gave me pause, prompting this short musing.

Within just a few hours yesterday, while on the golf course, I received unexpected updates on two contemporaries in my orbit. One guy I’ll call Brian, who made a hole-in-one the day prior. The other fellow I’ll call Gavin. He is suffering from a very difficult form of cancer. The real oddity? Both Brian and Gavin share the same last name. Homophonic in nature, but different spellings. Think Petersen and Peterson.

Anyway, I reached out to both men via text this morning. Brian and I are quite chummy, I see him dozens of times a year. He received nothing more than a congratulatory GIF regarding his once-in-a-lifetime golf shot, not a single written word. Gavin and I see each other very rarely, though we’ve been quite friendly in the past. I reached out to share my sympathies after learning of his deeply serious illness.

I heard back from both individuals within minutes, thanking me for checking in. (This is in direct contrast to the normal non-response when I write Letters of Gratitude. Approximately three quarters of those who receive letters never acknowledge them whatsoever, for some strange and inexplicable reason.)

The point: Send a text. Say “hello.” Acknowledge someone’s moment of glory, or intractable challenge. The sum total of time it took me to send both texts might’ve been two minutes, tops. But it made the recipients feel good, feel seen and acknowledged. As importantly, it made me feel good, taking a beat to reach out and offer congratulations and commiserations, just doing the right thing, maintaining connection, feeling human.