Correspondence

Once upon a time, long, long ago, people wrote letters.  We've learned so much about history from correspondence that was saved:  Winston Churchill, Julia Child, John Adams, and on and on.  In that regard, technology hasn't done us any favors.  Texts and emails are quickly deleted (not soon enough for some in politics).

It used to be that going to the mailbox could be the highlight of the day, holding hope for a missive from a friend or loved one.  There was a time in my life that I wrote a letter every day for a year, corresponding with people all over the world and, best of all, hearing back.  Now I don't even send Christmas cards.

As I said recently, going to my mailbox now is not much fun, bills and advertising being the order of the day.  A lot of trees are sacrificed during elections with self-promoting candidates.  Once in awhile, however, there is a ray of sunshine, and I found one this week.

I will not embarrass her by saying her name, but there is a cousin in the family (all who know and love her will recognize her immediately), who must spend her allowance on cards and stamps.  Every so once in awhile I will find a card of encouragement, sympathy, or just to say hi.  We talk now and then.  She never gossips, but keeps in touch with the extended family and, through her, we all do, as well.  It made me smile this week to see her familiar handwriting on an envelope even before opening it.  Inside was a card worth keeping.  It makes me want to be a better person to justify her kind thoughts.  She's pretty special.

The heat remains oppressive, sapping whatever energy I might have stored (which wasn't much in the first place).  Michael and I take our walks, long or abbreviated, and that's about it.  We are well into the dog days of summer.  (I just found out recently why they are called 'dog days,' and it wasn't what I'd thought.  Look it up.)

Stay safe.  Be well.