The two empty inland letters made me feel nostalgic. I remembered my teenage self in the 90s, when I would spend hours creating beautiful letters, personal, positive and sometimes pensive; long, handwritten letters that I would then post to my buddies. I had many and it kept me busy all through the summer.
Oh, the joy of writing letters to someone!
To tell them of all your secret fears, your little indiscretions, your aspirations and hopes. To daydream through the medium!
I wrote to these two pre-teen friends of mine, telling them about what penpals are.
I asked them – no begged them – to write back to me.
As soon as I posted the two books with the letters inside them, I wanted, selfishly desired, more of this pleasure. To find new penpals (that’s you, dear reader!). To write about myself, about how hard my writing was, but how I kept at it, day in and day out.
To share the joy of completing something, or getting something published, of smelling a freshly minted book. Or to share small nothings. Little things that make life - well - worth living and truly wonderful.
Yes, I could probably do this on social media. But, you know it, don’t you? It’s just not the same.
If you and me, would have met online on Instagram or Twitter, we would be in a hurry, two sort-of-friends waving a polite hello to each other, in the middle of the market as we’ve so many chores to complete, so many things to scroll through.
I’ll finish off my letter with a few links and one great news: Those two kids who I mentioned above? Both are going to write back to me.
Write back. On paper. Handwritten letters.
Every day, I’ve been going down to my letterbox and peeping into it, my heart filled with wonder, joy and excitement.
