I have a large bag of correspondance I rediscovered today. Every one of the letters was written and mailed to me by a friend or kin when I was in my twenties. Almost all of them are handwritten. (One friend used a green typewriter ribbon!) As I sampled the mail, I became so deeply grateful. The messages, the different handwritings, the addresses, the kind of paper and stamps used are portals to places and people I haven't experienced in a long time. The writers handled the envelopes, pressed their pens to the paper to share their news and feelings. How marvelous are friends, sisters! I was just as happy to read their words today as I was when the letters first were delivered to my mailboxes in now distant towns. Perhaps for some letters, I was even more touched. The voices sealed in those envelopes speak directly from our young adulthood. Their immediacy is so different from the revised histories we create when reminiscing.

I'm thankful that the timing of my life is such that I am enjoying the gifts of computers and the internet and cheap long distance phone calls, but that I also got to experience the tail end of the history of letter writing.

Although who knows? It could return as a trendy experience some day.