The picture at the bottom of this post is a letter. Two pages of stationery. Creme-colored. 5×8 inches. Actual hand-writing on each side.
It’s a letter from my cousin, Suzy, who is my dad’s brother’s daughter. She’s 18 months older than I am and has always a little like a the sister I never had. We were particularly close when we were in junior high and high school and for several years spent a week in the summer at our grandparents’ home. In the letter, she wishes me a happy (which was last Wednesday) and then fills me in on her travels, her family, her job, her husband, and a little hint of her future.
Why is this so significant? Because it’s so unusual to receive a letter. I received many happy birthdays on Facebook and it was a treat to see each one. But I can’t remember the last time that I actually sat down in a comfortable chair with the sole intention of reading a letter.
The internet has shrunk our world in so many ways, for which, on most days, I’m grateful. But the letter seemed to give things proper spatial perspective. She lives in the Twin Cities, which is about a 7-hour drive. I imagined her living her life in St. Paul in ways that I’m not sure I would have if she had written me an email or text. I wouldn’t have found a comfortable chair in order to read a Facebook update. It was an implicit letter and labor of love.
