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February 28, 2009
Noted
Picking up the mail is a chore for me. Occasionally the mailbox will include a magazine of interest, but rarely does anything wonderful arrive. Yesterday was one of those rare days.
I received a letter, addressed by hand, to me. At first I was a little distracted by the sheer novelty of having a letter in my hand to which I was the intended recipient. For a fleeting moment I considered the possibility that this letter was not what it appeared, but the return name and address was familiar so that idea was quickly dispensed with. Beyond that, I was slightly confused - what exactly should I do with the letter? Mind you, I'm well aware of the normal sequence following the reception of a letter. This was a far deeper dilemma. Should I "save" the letter?
But all of that passed in an instant and I quickly disgorged the letters' content. What was inside was a card, and two short notes. The card was a very attractive picture of Savanna Pine. And the notes were from my daughter and her boyfriend, thanking me for our hospitality when they visited us last Christmas.
The simple sentiments, the shape of the letters on the page, the paper itself all spoke clearly about the writers. And I drank it all in, and was refreshed. I love the sound of family and friends' voices on the phone. But I had forgotten how intimate a letter really is.
Posted by pgutwin at February 28, 2009 9:09 AM