Editor’s Note: Rex Alphin is going to take a break during the month of August, and he will be back in September. In the meantime, his brother, Ruffin, will fill in for him while he is on break.

The overbooked schedule has done its work. Bone deep weariness had awakened me to the need for some time off—an extended recess from work. My creative energy had evaporated and the days felt like weights. I sheepishly asked for several weeks in succession. When it was granted I could not rid myself of a biting sense of guilt. Was it right for me to be gone so long? What about the other workers? That’s why the small envelope was potent. Inside, the words were warm and inviting. Then near the bottom they read, “I’m glad you’re taking some time away because you need it.” That one sentence was life giving, particularly because it was written by the hand of my physician; an unusual physician who writes letters to patients. It was a small gesture, yet it delivered such a large liberty. I felt free to go now . . . .

The “tea-kettle, tea-kettle” sound was blaring and boisterous in the early morning stillness. It rang throughout the dawning neighborhood. No doubt such volume was produced by some large feathered creature, but my binoculars revealed a surprising counterclaim. The little critter perched high up on the wire was lifting its head in a performance as if he was an Italian opera singer belting out a famous aria. The Carolina wren is a small chunky bird with hardly any neck and a short little tail but its song is brilliant and booming. Its size is no deterrent and we are the recipients . . .

For some time our relationship had not been what it used to be. A kind of civil coolness had set in. Things had happened, comments had been made, misunderstandings had resulted. The way forward was unclear to me. I wanted it to be different. But I did not know exactly how to do it. From time to time we would both make attempts to be warmer, to be more thoughtful, to be affirming, yet usually it was only what was necessary to keep the tasks functioning. Most of the time it felt forced. We continued on, then one day she walked into my office, put her hand on my shoulder and simply said, “Are you alright? You look like something is bothering you.” I cannot remember what was troubling me, but at the moment it had nothing to do with her. What I do remember is her words. They were unnecessary. There was no compulsion involved; no pressure, no coercion for her to show such care. She just did. Just a few words but they carried great weight, like a bridge to a town on the other side . . .

Small stuff. It is so big.

Ruffin Alphin grew up in Southern Isle of Wight County. He is filling in for his brother Rex Alphin during the month of August. Rex can be reached at rexalphin@aol.com