Ah. I am flattered. I sent a reply back to the email with her story. I apologized again for my poems, because they are terrible, and got this response:

“Booo I love your poems. I have them sitting near my tv because my cats like to sit on it.” (“It” being the manila envelope I put them in.)

A short response, I know. But…
Nobody has ever said they loved my poems. Not once.

Maybe they say that they are “alright” (in a halfhearted, guilty manner that tells me they only skimmed them), or that they are not a good evaluator of poems because they don’t like that genre, or that they themselves couldn’t write what I write…but none of those statements serve to indicate whether my writing of poems has any value or ability to entertain or occupy the minds of these people who are my friends and family members…

There is a little pulsing glow in the part of me that writes things and wonders if anyone cares. Happiness.