I still do it

I write letters. Real letters. I pick out pretty or cute or funny (to me) cards. I choose a pink or purple ink pen.

First, I address the envelope. Lick the stamp (pretty one). Place it just so in the corner.

Then, I'm ready to write. I just mailed a big stack. A whole bunch of thank yous, a condolence card, and several to say, "I'm thinking of you. You're important to me. You make a difference in my life."

These are the best ones.

E-mail is quick and dirty and I use it too much. Great for transferring information and jokes. Not great for feelings. Easily deleted and forgotten.

Don't even get me started on IM.

I've kept just about every card and letter I've ever gotten. Piles and piles of them. When I read them (and reread them), I picture the sender doing what I do -- making it a ritual, sitting down with all the supplies, looking up the address, putting thought into the message, trying to write neatly, to create an artifact worth saving, deciding whether to end with:

Love,

me

Sincerely,

me

Love ya!

me

Talk to you soon,

me

Miss you,

me

Goodbye,

me

It matters. It all matters.