A friend of mine in facebook posted yesterday about sad her son gets when the mail comes and there’s nothing for him.
I couldn’t stand it so I decided to send him postcards. I may have gone overboard. But hey, I hope the novelty of getting real mail never dies with him. I know that it hasn’t with me.
When I was younger I had several dozen pen pals. Yes, I said several dozen. They were scattered across the US, England, Finland, and Australia. Sometimes, I would get pen pals from Africa – I can’t remember which country exactly; I don’t have the letters here – they are at my parents house. Eventually, they will migrate here. It’s not like I’m lacking from space.
Anyway, back on task.
The person I wrote to the longest was Tarja from Finland. I wrote to her from the time I was ten years old till about my freshman year of college. Eight years is a long time and when we both got to higher education, we just drifted apart. Nothing major happened between us…just life. I tried to track her down a few years ago, but nothing came of it.
Okay, so maybe the person I wrote to the longest lives in Florida. But then again, we used to live close to each other. Tarja and I never met. R_____ and I wrote long letters to each other. All of her letters to me are under my bed at my parents house. I suspect my letters to her are under her bed at her house. 🙂
Anyway, I miss getting real mail that isn’t bills.