On Postcards and Letters

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.


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