In the midst of purging my life and getting ready for my second big move in a year, I came across three boxes of letters last night. Most were written during college by hall mates and my mother. But some were 22 years old, written by my grandparents for my birthdays or other big life events. Well as big as life events can get when you're 5. Some of them simply stated: "Love Grandma and Grandpa" under the cutesy phrases and designs Hallmark made that year. Nothing special, but for some reason, I'd held on to them through every other purge in my life.
While during this purge I didn't save every card they'd written me, I looked through every one and remembered them so vividly, just through the handwriting on the inside or the special card they'd picked for me. Someone stood in the store, and picked this card for me.
Mixed into this batch of older memories, were the letters from college. Rereading every single one, I discovered a pattern consistent with 1800s housewife letters. Most talked about daily life or encouraged me to overcome whatever obstacle was in my way at the time. Not very different from the letters I've read between Jane Austen and her sister. But like the birthday cards, each letter vividly reminded me of the struggles I faced and the victories I celebrated within 4 short years.
This experience of rereading my life reminded me, that even with modern technology and ability to quickly relay information, the power of a handwritten letter goes far beyond the moment. It takes you back in time, to that exact moment, remembering all the emotions you felt. Almost like a snapshot of feelings. One letter may be blurry from tears, another full of torn and crinkled edges, or yet another carefully preserved to keep forever.
E-mails too quickly get moved to the trash bin or maybe saved in a place you swear you'll remember, but then find yourself never going back to it. A letter, even the simplest one kept in a box for years under the bed, is all about the waiting and rediscovery.
It's like being a kid again. Rushing to the mail box, grabbing the contents, racing back inside, throwing the now crumbled envelopes at your mom, and waiting somewhat impatiently to see if anything was for you. Even if the mailman just brought bills or junk for the day, in your 5 year old mind, he/she was still a hero in that fleeting moment of anticipation and waiting. Opening the boxes to reread the letters, is like running outside once more: anticipation and waiting to rediscover your life.
While I did not keep every single letter or card in the three boxes, I purged my life down to one shoe box. Filled with an assortment of feelings and ages, waiting to be re-read for the upteenth time. Who knows the next time I'll open the box, pull a letter and reread it. Who actually knows when the box will be unpacked. But its there, waiting to take me back to the forgotten memories.
Also during my moving purge, I've found way too many boxes of unused cards and stationary. So here is my self challenge: Write one letter to someone every day. Even a quick note to say hi or a long letter to fill in an old friend. Its time to reclaim the art of letter writing, and get rid of the cobwebs in the mailbox. I'm gonna add a little piece of sunshine to the pile of junk and bills. So here's your challenge: address please :)
"You deserve a longer letter than this; but it is my unhappy fate seldom to treat people so well as they deserve."
-Jane Austen
