How long has it been since you’ve written a letter — an actual pen to paper letter. For me it’s been forever.

My mom has sent me a couple since we’ve moved into our new place. And can I tell you, the excitement of seeing them in the mailbox can not even match a bold number next to ‘Inbox’ indicating you have a new email. Well, sometimes it can… if you’re eagerly awaiting a reply from someone. But the majority of the time, a handheld physical letter tops my list.

on one of the clippings, she wrote “don’t be mad, ryan, for sending this article”. it revolved around decorating with antique photos (of strangers). he forgave her.

Maybe it’s the knowledge that someone took the time to find paper, handwrite a message (even though their hands probably ached from a lack of keyboard), included newspaper clippings (in my mom’s case), and paid 42 cents to send it to you. There’s a sense of connectedness there, one that I so appreciate.

She even found an old notebook page with a printed checkbox at the top stating: “Check Box When Assignment is Completed.” And I bet you she waited until the closing of the letter before she checkmarked that puppy. She’s an oldest, always following the rules.

So my goal is to start writing more letters. Don’t be surprised if I ask you for your address …and you may just get a little something in the post.

3 comments on “Letters

  1. Anonymous says:

    Was that really safe to be throwing lotto tickets in R's face while he was driving? I don't think so…-Your very safe driving friend who is afraid to EVER ride with you again.

  2. Carolyn says:

    Kate, if you're going to drag my driving skills through the mud, please do it on the correct blog post. Besides, I don't recall ever running into anything while flying down the back allies in my Ford Aerostar. Oh, how i miss that car. I mean, van.

  3. Anonymous says:

    DARN IT! BUSTED! Anyway, you may not have run in to anything while driving through the ally, but if you had looked closely at the arm rest in your van you would have seen my fingernail imprints, left from when you were dodging people and trash cans on our way to Aggieville…

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