Tuesday, August 21, 2012
The shuffling of folding boxes. The screeching of packing tape. The towers of books and the mountains of dishes. And the gentle wave of dust that inevitably settles on everything.
The pains of packing and unpacking are many and are topped by several sleepless nights as we move through the process.
Yet there are a few unexpected highlights. The long-forgotten articles I saved from old magazines. The mementos from childhood, thought lost for years. And the letters written by family and friends almost two decades ago.
Letters. Yes, words written by hand on neatly folded crisp sheets hidden inside pretty envelopes decorated with kind words or pretty stickers, and, occasionally, an ink spot or two. It must be years since I last received one and seeing the yellowing papers and faded ink I realized how much I miss them. But I am just as guilty of resorting to the faster and cheaper email as the persons who I wish still wrote real letters to me. By hand. With a pen and a paper.
Do you still write and get letters? Do you feel it is a lost art?