Write a letter - a real, pen-to-paper letter
I have letters from my sister when she was still in high school and I was just starting college. Some of them were signed, "Mrs. Jon Bon Jovi" or "Mrs. John Sykes" (the singer from Blue Murder, a much more obscure band). We still laugh about that.
There are letters from high school and college boyfriends; every now and then, when I take them out and leaf through them, I don't pine for relationships of the past. I reflect on the fun times and giggle about the silliness of my teenage years. I remember what it was like to be so insecure and so unsure of flirting, love, and everything in between.
A dear friend of mine from high school wrote me an impassioned, angry letter my freshman year in college. In it, she poured out her hurt and betrayal she felt because she perceived that I cared more about boys than I did about her. I remember calling her from my dorm phone when I got her letter; an email response wasn't possible at that point in time. Whether or not she was right or wrong wasn't important, although I'm fairly certain I was probably defensive. I remember being aghast that she felt that way and wanted to do everything I could to fix it. The point is that she cared enough to write, and I cared enough to respond. I still love her like a sister even though she lives halfway across the country. Whenever I see her, she makes me laugh my head off.
My best friend in college went through a period of time when she considered quitting school and moving out to L.A. to live with another friend. The letter she left for me when I came back to Cincinnati from Elkhart to visit for the weekend with my sister is another precious memory on paper, and I have it wrapped in plastic with some of my most important papers. She apologized for being so distant and pushing me away, and said how much she missed me. It meant the world to me and she's still one of my best friends.
When my grandmother died in 2000, I was struggling with grief I had never experienced before, and I wrote to my uncle Ed, my father's brother, for help. Uncle Ed is one of my favorite people in the entire world: loving, giving, generous, sweet, and intelligent, he is a retired pastor of the Sanibel Community Church after serving many years in Red Bank, NJ. I still have the letter he wrote back to me, and as I read it again, it soothes my soul all over again. "Grief is the price we pay for living and loving," he wrote. "Like a broken arm, a broken heart takes time to heal. Remember that she has gone just beyond where we can see."
Certain letters stand out, and whether or not I saved them, they will always be inscribed in my memory. I have a very special letter from my father when I was in college, telling me how much he loves me when I was going through a rough patch of low self-esteem. It's saved in a safe place, protected from dust and dirt. The letter is written in my dad's chicken scratch on hotel stationery, and is one of my most prized possessions.
Schools are starting to remove cursive writing from the curriculum. As my mom put it, "the art of the letter is slowly fading away." This makes me a little sad, but maybe I'm a dinosaur. This is from the same person that prefers real books over a Kindle or Nook. Think about how you feel when you receive a real letter... there is something special about it.
As one of my favorite writers says: words can hurt, and they can heal. When is the last time you picked up a pen and sent someone a letter? If they cherish it even a fraction of how much I cherish mine, it's worthwhile.