Her handwriting, humor, and forthright personality reminded me that despite substantial distance and the passage of time, my friend and I still exist in each other's daily lives. Small actions (like the habit of tearing plastic windows out of envelopes before recycling), gestures, and environmental cues (book titles, dog breeds, places) offer me perpetual reminders of people I don't see as often as I would like.
I encourage you to pick up a pen and drop a line to someone who might enjoy hearing from you.
When I wrote my friend back by hand, it was a real shift from typing at my keyboard. I banned myself from looking up anything online during the duration of the letter (book titles were the true agony). It was strange to commit ideas to the page, and I found myself working more deliberately. The easy pace and ability to commit myself wholly to the letter was relaxing and joyful. Ranger and I added a few thumbprint embellishments a la Ed Emberley and I even doodled an ocean scene on the back of the envelope. It was the most luxurious way I have passed an hour in months. My life felt so much less harried because I had the available time to put pen to paper.
I mailed her letter a week ago. Yesterday, in a modern postal miracle, there were three handwritten pieces of mail for me. With the gladness of those special notes, I sat down last night and penned a letter to someone who can makes me laugh so hard my ribs hurt. Knowing my friend's insanely busy life, I don't expect a reply. I want her to know that I miss her and she still makes me smile all the time.
This could turn out to be addictive.
Who could you write today?
***Baby Toolkit is the sometimes slapdash answer to what happens when a couple of tragically unhip geeks have kids. We are Amazon affiliates, so a small portion of purchases through our Amazon links does power the Baby Toolkit industrial complex (domain names and DSL service).