When did you stop waving?

Tuesday 30th June, 2026

My dear readers, good morning from Malaysia,

The city is waking up around me as I sit in a food court watching locals enjoy what they call 'half boiled eggs,' with thick slices of fluffy white bread for dipping, and hot, sweet tea on the side. This is home, and I don't often get the chance to write to you from here. 

This past weekend, my family and I escaped to the coast. It was magical in a way that only South East Asia can be. Just a few hours from home we found ourselves on a tiny island surrounded by clear blue water and fishing boats. Spectacular as it was, it wasn't the scenery that made me want to write to you, but my eight year old daughter and her unstoppable desire to wave at everyone and anyone we saw, as our trip progressed.

The first wave was from a small speed boat whisking us to our hotel. As we passed a traditional fishing vessel, a group of Malaysian fishermen were hauling in their morning catch. My daughter was watching them as she pressed herself against the edge of the boat (and mum held onto her for dear life!) and waved enthusiastically across the seas. One of the men looked up, let go of his nets, and with, what I can only assume was a cigarette in his hand, gave her a joyfully energetic wave from afar. She squealed with delight.  A complete stranger, hundreds of metres away, had acknowledged her existence and connected with her, and in that tiny moment, she felt the deep instinctive elation that comes with being seen. 

As the weekend went on, she waved from golf buggies, across beaches, from restaurant tables and even on our snorkelling trip as she was under water looking out at other snorkelers (also underwater) nearby. Every single time that someone waved back, she beamed. And every single time, so did they.

It made me wonder when we stop waving as adults, and why? Children seem to understand something that we have forgetten. We don't need to know each other's stories to recognise one another. We don't need to agree, have something in common, or even exchange a single word to empathise with that shared reality of being human. Sometimes all another human being needs is the smallest acknowledgement that says, "I see you."

The wave. It asks you for nothing and costs you nothing, and yet, for a fleeting second, two strangers stop being strangers in a big wide world of disconnection. So, today's letter is just a reminder that human connection is rarely built through grand actions, but the smallest of human moments. Who might you wave at today? Because perhaps the distance between us is no greater than the lift of a hand.

Will you try it?

In empathy,

Mimi

P.S If this is your first letter, The Empathy Letters are personal, simple, candid letters that prompt a new idea, share a stranger's story, or simply offer some refreshed empathy in your week. Never a newsletter, these letters - similar to a ‘penpal’ of old - are from me to you, and I would love your letter in reply, every now and then.