Mushy emails and moose kisses

This Thanksgiving weekend I decided to thank some of the writer and bloggers whose words have influenced and encouraged me.

Of course, none of these people know I exist since we occupy, how shall I say, extremely different literary or social media standings.

Still, I know how hard it is to throw one’s words out into the world without knowing where they will land. Writing from the heart, I think, is the bravest thing a person can do.

So I sent off thanks to two writers and one blogger, and I hate to admit it but I became a bit mushy, too. “I love you,” I wrote. “I love your words. You have changed my life in ways I can’t even explain, blah, blah, blah …”

After I hit the Send button, I felt ashamed. What would they think when they opened their email and discovered an overly sentimentalized note from someone without the sense to Spellcheck?

But then something amazing happened. I opened my own email and found two notes from people I didn’t know gushing about my work. My work! It was too freaking scary, and wonderful.

Now, I’m not a New Ager and I don’t believe in all of that “you get back what you give to the universe” hype. If that were true, there would be no poverty or starvation or people dying horrible deaths in Third World countries. Yet in a way, I do believe it. I believe that when you project good, you are rewarded with good. And I sent out mushy thanks and mushy thanks came back to me.

Which, of course, brings me to the subject of moose (everything in the winter in Alaska brings me back to the subject of moose). I was having a bad morning and glanced out the window and saw a baby moose in the yard, snorting around for fallen apples beneath our trees. A few minutes later, the mother trotted into the yard on her ridiculous knobbed knees, her backend swaying and lurching. And I thought: Yes, this is exactly what I need, a mushy moose moment.

And I got it, too. Because the mother and baby actually touched noses. A moose kiss! Right in front of my kitchen window.