Family, Letting Go, Love, Making Friends, Memory, Mindfulness, Writing

The almost, so-very-lost, art of the letter

I’ve been finding letters.

Long lost letters.

Long saved letters.

Long ago, written-by-hand letters.

As and Es and Is strung together to form laughter and love and pain.

Through my veins runs remorse

then retraction

as I read the letters aloud.

Loopy script

Straight uppercase caps

Bubbled Oooos and lowercase bees

All of them stamps of time and postmarks of personality

Who knew then that you were a poet, dear Friend?

Who knew that you could dance with your words, dear Lover?

Who knew, Mother, that you missed me with an ache you hid away so I would never know

until I, too, was a mother?

Aching…

Who knew then

what I know now?

Did you?

And I simply

missed it?

Did you know I would read your words aloud

and fall in love with a version of you I never knew?

6 thoughts on “The almost, so-very-lost, art of the letter”

  1. Correct, that. The script tells its own part of the story.
    I have a box of saved letters from my departed Dad. Scared to read them, since lately I seem to do anything possible to avoid strong feelings. Oh well, they’ll be there when I heal, barring silverfish.
    Sweet to see you discover things about your mother.

    Like

  2. You gave me shivers. I love this post, especially the conclusions and questions you come to at the end. I also love letters, and have two huge boxes of them downstairs; letters my great aunt received and kept during her 97 years and letters and cards I’ve received over the years.

    Like

  3. Beautiful. I save letters and also birthday cards. One of my favorite was from my grandmother (who survived the Holocaust) who said “Happy birthday. people should be kind to you. You can achieve this with your own personality.”

    Like

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