Long ago- before the age of email and internet and blogs- there was an art form known as letter writing. It was an amazing thing, friends and neighbors. A person would put thoughts to paper. Emotions would spill onto pages like so much ink. And penmanship (you might have to actually go look that word up) was sexy. And these thoughts that were written down were then enclosed in an envelope and sent to lands far away. The trip would take days. Sometimes even weeks. The whole process taking between 7 to 14 days from letter written to response received. And the joy, the sheer joy of holding a letter from a loved one in your hand. The feeling of the paper in your hands. The act of reading the words, the meanings. And perchance a seductive scent left on the pages to stir the emotions. What sweet rapture.
I went to a boarding school from 1989 to 1992. During these three years I wrote to all my friends back home. And during these three years I was quite popular, so I received a number of letters in return. The first love of my life was during this time. As was my second and third. Several girlfriends are represented during this time. And powerful friendships.
I have kept each and every one of these letters. I am lucky. I have an amazingly clear resource from this time in my life- almost 20 years ago. I can read letters my grandmother sent me, before she got alzheimer's. I can read her thoughts when she was still able to construct them. Not long after this she began to lose her mind.
I bring this up because I just went through the box and divided them into their own piles. I am going to put them all in notebooks or some type of scrapbook form so that they will remain safe. I never thought about it at the time, but they have become some of dearest possessions.
Most of these people are lost to me now. Time has passed. I have lost track. I have lost touch. There was a time when this bothered me. A time when I was desperate to get back to those days. Now I look back with a warm heart and a smile. They are days that have made me who I am. And they are easier, happier days. Days when life was more simple. More carefree. And though I cannot go back to those days, I have these letters. Ink on paper that tells stories a days gone by.
Luxuries like letter writing are dead. I haven't received nor have I written a letter in more years than I can count. Greeting cards are almost dead as well. And emails fall so desperately short of the mark. So I have my letters. Thank goodness for that.....................
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