I was doing some "July" cleaning (that's a thing, isn't it?) and found a storage bin full of cards, letters and mementos (including my first pay stub and my first tax return...of $1.00 that I never cashed). Here's a secret: I'm a bit of a sentimental pack-rat.
I've always been a letter writer (I picked it up from my father) and if you've gotten a card from me...chances are it came with something besides a simple signature. There is something whimsical, romantic even, about writing a letter. Letters, to me, have always been more "real" than even a phone call. Letters seem to freeze time in the same way that a photo does. The thoughts, emotions and ideas expressed on that page create a bookmark of that moment in time.
One of the best parts of my day at Mizzou was walking by the mail-slots and seeing an envelope under my room number. Then, opening the mailbox up and seeing a letter from a friend? It was such a warm and impactful moment. And, I kept most of them.
In re-reading the cards, postcards and letters, I came to the realization that I had some from people who are no longer with us. I can see their wishes, thoughts and personality on the page. It almost feels like it closes the gap between life and and the after-life; like those who are gone could still connect to me through their handwriting.
I have some letters from friends that I'm no longer in contact with and also some from people that I'm "connected" with on social media, but we haven't had a meaningful conversation in years. And each of them made me feel re-connected to those people for just a moment.
It was a bit more emotional than I expected it to be. While rummaging through, I stumbled upon a letter from a friend who shared this quote with me:
People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
I'm sure you can see this by now, but I struggle with this concept. A lot. As I re-read the letters, I was taken to that moment in time where the letter came from. I remembered who I was then...who the other person was...what we meant to each other...and I felt a sense of loss. While I'm grateful that we had that "reason" or that "season" it's still hard to relive that moment in time where we shared a connection, a bond, and to know that bond is gone. I began to miss them.
In going through these, I found I also miss the tactile feel of the letter that seemed to close the distance...and time. It was no longer a letter from 20 years ago, it felt more recent. It was less a memory and more reality. And I began thinking about how this other person took time to physically write a letter to me. Someone spending their "time" on me always feels like the greatest gift. Being worthy of someone's most limited resource (time) is humbling.
In going through this bin, I noticed that the letters stopped coming ~ 2003/2004; which coincides with the launch of MySpace (and other 'social media' platforms). We're so "connected" online, but how truly "connected" are we?
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy social media. I get windows into your lives and I get these snapshots that help me stay in the know; especially with so many of us being spread-out all over the world! But I wonder if we're missing something deeper? Connecting through the act of letter writing seems different. It seems more powerful and meaningful than a simple "like."
Even as the digital age dawned many of us replaced letters with emails back and forth; we still had 1-on-1 conversations going. And I think it's this idea that is missing from today's "social" media platforms. Connecting 1-on-1. Social media is for the masses. Despite being able to comment or like...it's still a 1-to-many form of communication.
It's so quick and easy to hit "like" or type a quick "happy birthday" on Facebook and hope that the other person knows we still care. It's far harder to pick up the phone or harder still to pick up a piece of paper. I know I don't write nearly the number of letters I used to anymore.
We all do our best to have meaningful connections like getting together for coffee or drinks...but life is so busy. It's hard to stay in touch with everyone; losing touch is rarely "personal" and more a casualty of growing responsibilities.
But even with these get-togethers, I still miss letters. I miss the physicality of it. The crinkle of the paper and how tangible it feels. I miss how letters seem to transcend time and distance. And I miss having something to look at...20 years later...and reminisce upon.
Perhaps someday, when we're older, grayer and wiser...we'll pick the pens back up again and dust off our notebooks. Everything old is new again at some point, yes?
Until that day, if you're reading this and we've sent letters or cards back and forth...don't be surprised if I still have some of yours. And know that I thought about you today...and to those whom we've lost touch: know that our connection meant something to me. And I miss you.
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