Hello — how are you?
Recently, a friend asked me to reach out to someone we both care deeply about. She had been very, very ill. When I heard that, my heart sank. Suddenly, something so simple became complicated.
What do you say?
“Hey, how are you?”
But I knew she wasn’t okay. What if she was exhausted, in pain, or emotionally drained? For days I thought about it. I played different versions of the conversation in my mind, searching for the right words. I didn’t want to sound casual, awkward, or scared. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
I’ve struggled with this before. Sometimes “How are you?” feels so automatic, so common—almost empty. We say it every day expecting the same predictable answer: “Good, how are you?” It’s become part of our daily script.
But life isn’t always “good.”
Some people are fighting quiet battles. Some are dealing with illness. Some are carrying worries they don’t share with anyone. And when we know that, the simple greeting suddenly feels small.
I guess it depends on who we’re calling. With family, we use terms of affection: “Hi, love.” “Hola, amor.” “What’s going on, bro?” At work, we get straight to business, which somehow feels easier. But when someone is hurting, we overthink. We try to prepare the perfect line, as if healing depended on vocabulary.
After days of going in circles, I finally picked up the phone.
She answered.
And I simply said, “Hola.”
The conversation flowed on its own. It found its own direction. There were pauses. There was honesty. There was even a little laughter. And in that moment, it hit me:
It was never about having the perfect words. It was about her — about helping her feel a little lighter, even for a moment.
It wasn’t about me sounding wise or comforting. It was about her feeling seen. She was grateful that someone thought of her. Grateful that someone took a few minutes to check in. I had been so focused on what I was going to say that I almost forgot why I was calling — to remind her she wasn’t alone.
That was the lesson.
Sometimes we don’t need the perfect script. We don’t need rehearsed lines or polished phrases. We just need to show up. Pick up the phone. Send the text. Knock on the door. Say hello.
Most of the time, the conversation will find its own path.
And sometimes that simple “hello” becomes a small light in someone’s difficult day.
Let’s not wait for perfect words.
Let’s lead with heart — with compassion and empathy.