Aging with Grace

I have always felt there was something sacred in a piece of paper that traveled the earth from hand to hand, head to head, heart to heart.

Robert Michael Pyle

Both my mother and my grandmother were prolific letter writers. I felt guilty that I sometimes procrastinated in answering those notes and when I did it was often with a tiny bit of resentment. I was young. I had places to go, friends to see, I didn’t have time to sit around writing letters. It is one of my regrets that I didn’t recognize, one day, I would miss that correspondence and wish I could go back and re-read it.

Today, receiving a personal letter is a rare and treasured experience. We message, we text, we don’t write letters. Many would say, it’s a waste of time. Not only does it require sitting down with pen and paper to compose, an envelope and stamp is required before we take it to the mailbox to send it on it’s way. Of course, the fact that someone would take the time to do all of that is what makes it so exceptional.

Earlier this week, I sent off a letter in answer to one I received from a new friend. Thank you Barb. Receiving personal mail is an experience to savor. An opportunity to sit in a comfortable chair, with a cup of coffee, and take time to read a message written in handwriting that is particular to that person. There is a shared intimacy that will never be found in an email or text message.