Last month, I put out a request for thoughtful correspondence. I received some luscious stationery for Christmas and wanted to use it. I wasn’t looking for a notecard filled with mundane thoughts just to fill up the space but elevated, thoughtful writing worthy of an answer from a Jane Austen character. It’s a high order but I have actually received a few of these delicious missives.
Do you remember this feeling? A thick envelope waiting for you in the mailbox? Waiting for a moment when you could read the entire letter without interruption? Or a letter written to you during class? Passed quickly as you changed classrooms? These weren’t light notes, but all your friend’s anguish poured onto lined paper and folded into the shape of an envelope with a tab that said “pull here.”
Yesterday, I received a letter from my childhood best friend. I saved it to read until I was tucked in bed. We used to write to each other when we were little. We did not go to the same school and lived in different cities. I remember the excitement of finding one of her letters in my mailbox---and here she was again, her voice, her handwriting, but now, we are grown, with nearly grown children (in her case some are grown!) but my friend still has the same wonderful heart.
I feel a draw to return to this type of communication. I am overwhelmed by text and email---by messenger and notifications. But here, with my favorite pen and a slice of good creamy paper, I slow down. I remember my best cursive. I make complete sentences. And I write just for her---as if she is sitting in front of me and I could tell her all the things that I’ve been thinking about---because I can.
We write of love and of transitions in life. We describe the characters that are part of our lives. These are all things you cannot see on social media. We remember how to talk to each other again.
This communication would only be better of my dear friend was in front of me. Or if I could talk this way with people in person---because I do fear we have forgotten how. We speak to each other in this sort of elevated, sing songy voice. Our professional voice. We no longer speak to each other without worry of offending, of oversharing or of getting too close.
But here on my new stationery, it is 1987 again. I pour out my inner thoughts. No filter. My worries for my children. My hope for the future. And the thing that is so powerfully different than when I click post or send, when I lick to seal the envelope and press my stamp upon the front--- I feel better. Content. And loved.
And I can’t wait till she writes back!
So fun to be in your smaller group of friends that writes letters! Also. When you’ve been friends for such a long time it’s easy to pick up in a deeper place and just continue the thread. I love what you said about the notes passed in school. Oh the pages I’d write! And inventing/ copying different ways of folding and pulling tabs. Ahhhh. So nicely written ❤️
What a delightful connection to have with your friend. I'm with you; I left social media--Instagram/FB/Twitter in favor of actual connections and conversations and it has been such a blessing.
You're on to something!