LETTERS

Before the ‘intra-web’, FaceTime, personal YouTube channels and Skype (is that still a thing?).  Before electronic-mail and chat-sites.  Before MySpace, Facebook, Reddit, Snap-Crap and Tweeter.  Before cellphones, now smartphones and before the telephone - rotary if you’re REALLY old like me.  Before all of this was Letters.

Words put down on paper.  Typed, inked by hand, etched, carved in stone.  We communicated in slow, complete thoughts knowing every word would take what today would seem like eons to receive.  And then we’d have to unfold, unpack and embrace the thoughts that sat neatly or sometimes scribble-like on the page.  Maybe even in cursive!!

And not only did we wait on each stamped and delivered envelope, but then we’d take those words and pull out carefully kept stationary (it was a thing) and spend time mulling our thoughts, deciding how to answer each statement thought for thought.  Sometimes spending another eternity just gathering, growing and tending the ideas that we wanted to share, answer, explore.  It was a dance of emotions and substance finding its way inside another sealed envelope.  Awaiting its journey from caring hands to the person addressed to.

And this journey would continue back and forth until eyes and hearts could meet face to face and share those intimate thoughts in each other’s embrace.  

I’ve written many letters lately.  Composed thoughts in which I’ve tried to mimic the back and forth of the long-ago past.  Soaking on what I wanted to say, then releasing it to those I hoped to share with.  Those letters were sent over email and the answers came quickly.   And the thoughts I needed to express sometimes took days to compose.  I’m not blaming anyone for quickly acknowledging, but I’m resolved that some answers do not come quickly.  Sometimes patience is like waiting on those letters of old.

So, this week I started writing another letter.  This one I’ll type or hand write and put carefully in the mail (thank god for speedy delivery and tracking - I’m REALLY NOT THAT PATIENT).  And then I’ll breathe in knowing that it’s not in my hands.  And I’ll wait.

For another letter?