The Letter I Almost Didn’t Write

A simple thank-you can change everything—if you’re brave enough to say it.

A letter is also a lovely way to communicate.

It had been sitting there for weeks, buried beneath a stack of unopened mail and takeout menus—the blank thank-you card I had purchased on a whim months ago. Every time I considered writing it, my chest tightened, and I found something else to do: clean the kitchen, scroll through my phone, rearrange the bookshelf. Anything to avoid having to face what I knew I needed to say.

The card was not for a birthday or a holiday, nor did it commemorate a recent grand gesture. It was for someone who had quietly supported me in ways I had not realized until years later. Someone who may not even remember the impact they made.

It was intended for Mr. Bennett, my high school English teacher.

Mr. Bennett was not the warm and bubbly type of teacher. He was strict but fair, the type of man who made you want to prove yourself. He had a deep voice and a piercing gaze that seemed to see right through your excuses. He was known for his toughness, but he had a way of making you believe in yourself before you knew what he was doing.

When I was sixteen, I was a wreck—a walking storm cloud of self-doubt. My parents were going through a difficult divorce, and I spent most of my time…