I love writing letters on honest-to-goodness stationery … the feel of it, the sound of it, the look of it, even the smell of it.
When this stationery set beckoned to me recently at a flea market, I felt like I’d discovered a rare jewel amidst the clutter — a remnant of a bygone era. It reminded me that the art of letter writing has been boxed up and tucked away, too.
In spite of today’s technology, you can’t send a perfumed e-mail.
I wondered what its owner had written on the missing pages prior to passing it along to me. Love letters? War-time “I miss you’s?” Dear Mom and Dad, the weather’s been fine? The beauty of letter-writing is that I’ll never know. It’s personal… and private.
Once home, I dug out my faithful ol’ address book — a chronology of lives between two covers, filled with street names, apartment numbers, and former addresses visible through penciled-out lines; family members and friends added — or sadly, lost; and Christmas cards sent and received. Even a trail of telephone numbers.
Drop-down lists are incapable of holding that much history.
Then I sat down to write personally to another human being.
My companions were a cup of coffee, a plateful of cookies, and uninterrupted thoughts. (That, and accountability at the end of my pen.)
You are what you write, no matter how you write it.
Enjoying life one letter at a time,