Letters...

Sorting boxes of Christmas decorations to store til next year I opened an unmarked one, forgotten in the stack. It was filled with letters and cards received from dear, very dear, beloved friends. They weren’t printed e-mails, nor typed letters but personally penned in their beautiful cursive script. Most are 20, 30, 40 years old replying to my letters and updating me on their lives. Having read and thought about each one I sadly realized the every sender has left this world. O my heart.

I laughed, sighed, reminisced and cried with our lives documented now lost but not forgotten. In time a particular set will be given to the senders daughter so she will see her mother’s very quirky side. There are so many letters describing her daughters birth and growth that I wish to hold them tight for just a while longer. The daughter will read them and pass them onto her daughter so she will appreciate the grandma she never had a chance to know. Others will be sorted, tied in ribbon and set aside for another day.

Besides the stories, I adore the script. Every one was hand written on un-lined paper with care. Fluid as skate trails on ice. S’s formed as a swans neck; M’s with continuous arch’s; T’s were twisting tree branches. I could easily identify the sender by my address on the envelope as each friends script was unique and I still remember theirs after all these years. I believe their handwriting is a piece of their being. Something to remember them by, and I do, and will as long as life permits.