Open Letter: 7 Months All In with My Habitual Sipper 💚

Michael P Wright
5 min readMar 16, 2024

La Luz, it’s 7 months later. Here’s who you are today.

You melt into me when we hug like you haven’t seen me in years. All parts of the hug are my favorite parts beginning with your reaching for me.

You persistently smell good.

You like yellow apples but when they’re peeled — by someone else.

Habitual Sipper: You don’t finish a beverage in one take no matter how small the container. I think I’ve seen you sip a shot.

I feel like every day — at least 5 times per week — I’m surprised by something else you know about.

You’re hypercritical of yourself. I suspect it’s a mechanism to stay humble or to balance out moments of egotism, but psychoanalytic theory is a field outside my realm of expertise. Over 7 months, I’ve listened, read, and watched you modify your critical self-talk. You’ve achieved things outside of your comfort zone, and you’re still going.

I silently speak, whisper, or mumble, “Thank you” to God and the universe when I randomly kiss you or squeeze a part of you.

You’ve had a lot of jobs in a vast amount of industries. It’s giving Jamaican. #itsgiving

I tell you often “You spoil me”. I mean it.

I’ve been smitten by you since Day 1 (15 August 2023), and I tried to play cool and relax for at least the first few hours of our calls. You making eye contact with me reminds me of our video calls.

You often ask, “What do you need?”. The answer is almost always that we touch.

You are a textbook introvert. You don’t want to talk and would be completely OK communicating by writing or telepathy (as long as you could turn off incoming telepathic conversations like how the iPhone can allow calls from only your Favorites as a Focus Mode setting).

I’d like for you to love your voice or, at minimum, realize how soothing it is to the ears.

I save your quotes.

I save a list of words and phrases I like to hear you say. When I told you about it, you thought I made the list to make fun of you. Nope, there are words you say that sound extremely pleasant or arousing to me — like taking that first bite into a syrupy pancake.

I privately write about our conversations and experiences, and I date each entry.

You are adamant that you don’t want to reincarnate, but I want to come back as a bird.

I’ve saved a list of endearing names I’ve given you and still call you (listed in order of creation):

  • La Luz — I told you in Week 1 that your energy feels like a light source to me. I call you variations of this name: My Light, Light. You’re enamored with a Spanish-speaking country that I’m looking forward to visiting/building in soon.
  • Oxygen — I once asked, “Are you oxygen?” because I felt drawn to you like I needed you and your energy. When I told you I loved you, I said love didn’t feel like a strong enough word, and we agreed that breathe is a more accurate verb.
  • Chelsea Curls — After you cut out your braids, you didn’t like the look of your hair. I loved the curls. In-person later, I was amazed by how blackly black and perfect your curls are.
  • Mi Corazón — I once told you that you have my heart there with you in your state. I call you variations of this name: My Heart, Heart. You’re enamored with a Spanish-speaking country, and I like to stay brushed up on my Spanish.
  • My Love — I told you that I’ve dreamed about my future life in a forever home that I built and that the woman there with me hasn’t had a face in the dreams (just an energy that feels like the moment you put in the final puzzle piece to finish a puzzle). I feel like I dreamed about you — a woman who makes me feel capable, brilliant, appreciated, and a little bit fearless — then, I discovered that you really existed in the world. You’re that Love I dreamed about personified.
  • Mi Regalo — We have a way with each other that is organic and right. We’re in a relationship where we push-pull and balance each other. ☯️ Initially, I believed I was blessed with a woman and bond I didn’t deserve. Eventually, I began to tell myself that this — us together — is a gift that I’m worthy of. You’re enamored with a Spanish-speaking country, and I really like to speak Spanish.
  • Queen Sanity — You give me calmness in real time and when I think of pleasant moments like waking up in the morning together under sunlight. Bilal has a song on his first album called Queen Sanity, and the name and hook are a perfect fit.
  • Life — short for Life Partner. I’ve told myself that if the bond isn’t this, — where we lean all the way in — then I don’t want it.
  • The Name of My Favorite Fruit I have not typed the name of the fruit for security reasons.

I silently speak, whisper, or mumble, “Thank you” to God and the universe when I randomly kiss you or squeeze a part of you. Yup, even when either of us is frustrated with the other.

You’re right about Canva.

I feel like we’re really on Gomez and Morticia Addams’ energy. Low-key, I don’t want you to know that you can have anything from me that’s in my power or resources to give/do. To be honest, I think you do know, and I appreciate you using your power for good. I 💚 you. Thank you.

You are genuinely hilarious. Thank you for your sense of humor.

I told you I struggle to find a pattern in multiples of the number 7. You told me 7 is a significant number in spiritual things. I accepted that as a reason to look for 7 to be cool in ways outside of the number line.

You looked over my shoulder while I was drafting this and said with a grin, “That’s a lot of words.” You’re right. I’m considering recording this open letter for Mike Writing to share my personal narration.

Thank you for your patience.

Thank you for your drive.

Thank you for your faith and trust.

Thank you for your commitment to self-mastery and your devotion to teaching and helping others.

Thank you for being a light to the people you meet.

Thank you for laughing at my jokes.

Thank you for choosing me.

Check-in at year number 7??

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Michael P Wright

Michael P Wright is a Content Creator, Retired USAF Cyber Guy, Black American Dad, and Tech Early Adopter.