Earlier this year I received a letter from a friend in Canada in response to my holiday card. I receive letters so rarely now that it was almost an exotic experience--opening the envelope, feeling the paper, seeing the handwritten pages. As I read, it was as though I was sitting there with Lisa, enjoying brunch and watching the other people in the restaurant. So when I discovered A Month of Letters
--a challenge to mail at least one item through the post every day it runs during the month of February--I signed up immediately, even though the first day--February 1--was more than half over.
I posted an offer in my Facebook status to send something to anyone who sent me their address in a message, but no one took me up on it. I was disappointed, but some people are going to get something from me whether they want to or not.
My first letter, sent on Thursday, February 2, was a card to my cousin Susan, using new stationery I bought on Fab.com.
When I came home that night, there was a postcard in my mailbox from my friend Dennis, a fellow poet and a regular correspondent. I love getting mail from Dennis, as he frequently includes a surprise with his letter or card; I've received poems, books, blank journals and calendars from him over the years. Each communication is imbued with his energy and enthusiasm; I immediately feel as though he's right there with me.
In jotting down names of people to send something to, I've found myself thinking of people I'd like to write a letter to, but can't, because they've moved on to a place there isn't an address for, a place the post office can't deliver to: my father, various aunts and uncles, my grandparents, even some friends. I might have to write some poems instead.