"I hoard all these letters like treasure. One day I hope to fasten them end to end in a half-mile streamer, to float in the wind like a banner raised to the glory of friendship. It will keep the vultures at bay."~ Jean-Dominique Bauby, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
I have a binder full of them. High school notes passed behind teachers' backs, scribbled on loose-leaf margins. Letters from friends struggling to keep in touch once they've moved away. Papers filled with symbols and drawings that can only be cracked with a secret code. Collective journals that chronicle our teenage years: the drama, the confusion, the unrequited crushes, how unfair life seemed at the time. It's all there. And flipping through the pages takes me back in time triggering a smile, a laugh, a sigh. The troubles we deemed Earth-shattering then seem so insignificant now.
Today there are no letters. No unexpected notes in my mailbox letting me know I'm in someone's thoughts. Instead, rushed e-mails with useless fwds, incomplete sentences and lols fill my inbox saying a whole lot of not much. Letter writing has been pushed to the wayside to make space for urgency and stress. It seems there's no time for it anymore; we "need" the message at the speed of light. It's like being asked "How are you?" and promptly left with your answer in mid-air.
But I will continue to write letters and shall hold on to mine as if they were gold; it is through them that I realize how wealthy I am in friends.
Image: desertrosebooks.com