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I love letters.

I, love letters.

I love: letters.

Letter to a Friend, Blackberry Curve

All of these statements are true. Being a writer I love sentences, love words, and love each individual letter in our alphabet. Being a romantic, I write love letters in which I pour out my soul, my desire, all my longing. Being me, I find the simplest joy in receiving a letter in the post from a friend (I’m a bit old-fashioned in this way).

There is something so incredible about the feel of a hand-written letter. It shimmers, as though the page is luminescent, with the emotion and energy of the person who paused, for even just five minutes, and put pen to page.The papers smells like her perfume, her purse, the coffeeshop where she was sitting when she wrote to you.

Some days I think the postal service has gotten a bad reputation: the majority of things people receive are “junk mail” — mass marketing and bulk flyers, often not related to the individuals at the address. Or, it’s bills, statements from loan companies expecting repayment, or organizations asking again (for the fourth time this month) for your tax-deductible donation. I have nothing against people marketing, expanding their business. Nor am I opposed to organizations asking for donations; goodness knows my household gives our share to a variety of groups who solicit funds throughout the year.

But it’s the letter which is most important to me.

A month ago, I received a letter informing me I was not accepted to graduate school. In it, the writer suggested that I re-apply next year with an updated and revised application packet. While I was, at one time, nearly desperate to attend graduate school this autumn, I remember the deep sighing exhalation when I opened the letter and read of my future. I had come to realize that I wasn’t 100% certain what I wanted to do in graduate school, and the final rejection came as a great relief to me.

The letter, though, was kind. I could feel as I opened the envelope that care was taken when putting thoughts to the page. I did not shed a single tear over that denial of admission. Which amazed even me (because I tend to be a crier).

More important, perhaps, than receiving post, I love to write letters. I find such joy in sending a tiny bit of love to my friends all over the country (world?) when I am able. Often it begins as a piece of stationery I find when out doing my life. I think, “Oh! She just simply must have this card! I will write to her in it at once!” I may not write every week, or even every month. I can only hope that, when I am able to write, my letter finds you needing just such love in your day.

So if you ever need a bright moment in your life, or even the possibility of a friendly word from far away, send me an email with your address. I’d be happy to send you a note. If you feel inspired, write back. If not, that’s okay too.

I want to weave a web of love across this mighty planet of ours, one stamp at a time.

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