Post offices intimidate me. I don't get how they work. I'm an infrequent visitor. Every winter when I need to send some holiday packages I inevitably end up in the wrong line, completing the wrong form. Apart from a few birthday cards each year, these days, the bulk of my communications with friends and family, even -- especially -- distant relatives, is digital, which lets me edit and curate my best self before hitting 'send.'
When I had to send wedding invitations and wedding thank-you cards recently, I found myself pausing over each card, my pen-clad hand uncertain. Never before had I realized how risky it was, hand-writing a card. There's no room to mess up; there's no delete key. I had to know what I wanted to say before I committed the words to paper, where they couldn't be erased.
It wasn't intentional, but I've trained myself to do my best writing on a machine rather than by hand, and now, handwriting something, like a card or a letter, feels so final. So unchangeable. How did we all used to do this?
Recently I've been reading The Selected Letters of Willa Cather, a compilation of the esteemed author's notes from all stages of her life. I find these letters, in their dullness, in their amusement, in their very essence, to be utterly calming and oh-so-reassuring. Willa Cather wrote a lot of letters, some of them filled with typos, some of them imperfect, many of them filled with reflections on the mistakes she's made, the faux pas she's committed. It's refreshing to see someone's life so unedited, and all because she had the nerve to put things down on paper, send them through the mail, and leave a breadcrumb trail of her deepest thoughts all across the globe, out of her hands.
Writing letters on paper is brave; it's almost revolutionary. This month is National Card and Letter Writing Month, and I think it's time we revisit the notion of committing thoughts to paper, of letting ourselves run free with our thoughts, without worrying about whether we chose the perfect words, or whether we should cut them in half. It's time we surprise someone with an unexpected card, a heartfelt message, a plea for forgiveness or a confession of longing. Let's be like Willa and just write to express and inform, not to impress and achieve.
Let's just write.
