Parentheses: The Words That Don’t Want to Walk Alone
Some words arrive loudly.
They demand space.
They stand on their own and expect to be heard.
Others don’t.
Some words need company.
They need arms.
They need something curved and quiet around them – not to hide them, but to help them breathe.
That’s how Parentheses entered Dear Dictionary, We Need to Talk.
Not as a grammatical sign.
But as a gesture of care.
“They looked like tiny moons.
Curved. Quiet.
Always hugging something in the middle.”
When I wrote this page, I wasn’t thinking about punctuation.
I was thinking about children – and adults – who don’t feel ready to walk alone with their thoughts yet.
The ones who are not loud.
Not fast.
Not fully formed.
The ones who think quietly.
Or feel too much.
Or need a moment before speaking.
Parentheses don’t interrupt.
They don’t correct.
They don’t rush meaning.
They stay close.
“Maybe the words inside are scared.
Or sleepy.
Or not ready to go alone.”
This is what I try to do when I write for children:
create spaces where thoughts don’t have to perform.
Where nothing needs to be shouted to exist.
Where meaning can arrive slowly – wrapped, protected, seen.
In Dear Dictionary, Sol doesn’t define words to control them.
She listens to them.
She imagines what they might need.
And sometimes, what a word needs is not clarity –
but companionship.
“Parentheses – Two arms holding the quieter thoughts.”
I believe children understand this instinctively.
They know that some feelings don’t want explanations yet.
They just want to be held for a while.
And adults…
Adults often forget they’re allowed that too.
This book is not about learning the right meanings.
It’s about trusting that language can be gentle.
That words can care for one another.
That not everything has to stand alone to matter.
If you’ve ever felt like a thought of yours needed protection before being released into the world –
if you’ve ever needed something to walk with you, quietly, for a bit –
this book might feel like a small pair of arms around your words.
