It is a lost art, writing handwritten letters. Something that I miss terribly in our world of keyboards and touch screens. When one takes the time and effort to dance their pen in loops and lines forming in an effort to express themselves to another- this is true eloquence. Passion for the written word, long ago lost to the pecking of plastic keys and quick texts exchanged like brief looks. Yes, I miss the handwritten letters. I am known to save them as to me they are a connection to the writer. Showing me their own style of script, that is solely theirs like a fingerprint. Telling me that I was worthy of their time and effort (alas whether for love or anger, sorrow or friendship). Emotion exudes from a personal handwritten letter with no need for emoticons of smiley faces or higher case screaming to get one’s point across.
I recall my family getting regular letters in the mail from my grandmother, living on the other side of Ohio. I so looked forward to the envelopes arriving. I imagine her sitting at her table, taking the time to declare what was happening in her life while inquiring about ours. Her patience at writing letters to all four of her children and their families. She was such a fair and considerate woman that she would not have finished until everyone was written one.
But now we live in a world that is as close as our phone and laptop screens. We send out to multiple contacts in a blink of an eye. We get immediate gratification, the name of the game today. And we are dependent on these devices to keep us connected. I truly don’t know that we are any better for it. Cold and impersonal like a form letter addressing one as “to whom it may concern,” the digital world has tricked us to believe otherwise. I am not so easily fooled. I know that blogs and posts and texts are not the same. So every once in a while I have been known to sit and handwrite a letter to my husband. In my own way telling him that he is worthy of my time and effort. I miss the handwritten letters. I will always miss them.