I can’t even begin to describe how much I love letters.
Any form of hand-written communication always brings a smile to my face. Come to think of it, I don’t mind typed letters as long as they’re delivered via the mailman or by hand. No computers for me.
I’ve loved letters for as long as I can remember. I would get so excited about a birthday card in the mail or a new package of stationary. I would sit at my desk and write letters to my relatives in other states on my hot-pink Lisa Frank paper. As I got older, I would still jump at the chance to check the mailbox to see if there was any enveloped addressed to me. Eventually my standards lowered to magazines, catalogues, and report cards. By junior and senior year, it got to the point when even college brochures interested me.
I think I like letters more than ever now that I’m in college for the same reason I love getting packages. Letters are a tangible reminder that someone out there is thinking of you and took the time to handwrite a note just because. I love the familiarity of the handwriting in each card. Each family member has a distinct handwriting that I’ve learned to recognize over the years. I get a sense for the author’s personality through both the handwriting and the message. For example, my family sent me a Valentine’s Day package, which included a card. My parents and my sister each wrote me a message of a decent length, leaving my brother with two lines worth of space. His message said something along the lines of, “Dear Brigh, I’ve learned never to let Grace write before I do. Love, Drew.” It was the shortest message, but definitely my favorite, because I could hear my brother saying those exact words and making fun of my sister for her famous lengthy messages. I have all my letters that I’ve accumulated these past two semesters hanging on my bulletin board in case I ever feel lonely. They’re a connection to the family I have scattered throughout the country and a reminder of all the people cheering for me.