So, just so you don’t think me true to my word, since I have not written every day, I have started my letters.
Let me tell you, it has been fun and hard to stop. I have committed myself to writing a few letters a night. It’s fun reliving the past and putting words to that past, and actually writing to that person that made that past so livable. Some letters are not even that far into the past, some letters go so far into the past, but however close and far, all the letters are significant, at least to me. I also imagine some people might be shocked to hear from me, but I have 360 some days of letter writing before me, I only hope they enjoy hearing from me. I won’t send hate letters or chain mail, that is not worthy of my time. And as unfortunate as it is, there were memorable people in my past that no longer linger that I have no address to send them a token note of their effect upon my life.
“Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” Anais Nin
There is no order of significance to my letters, can’t put a price on love. I write as a hummingbird, as my mind flutters, and flutter it does.
It makes me think of funerals. The words that were never spoken while alive, for whatever reason, they just never were spoken. They were maybe felt, but should have been spoken. I am speaking them, and it feels good.
I love. For a portion of my life I thought I was incapable of love because I hurt. But I know I love when I have people who make me smile, and while I write each letter, I am smiling.
I would also like to think old Ben could save those pennies tossed on his grave and keep the joy of getting a letter in the mailbox alive.