My mom shared with me how she recently dug through junk filled draws in search of old love letters. She wanted to revisit the exchange of words she had with her first love, a young love. Reading line by line she said she closed her eyes and the former passion and excitement that use to race through her body came alive again allowing her to relive those tender moments that somehow seemed captured in time by moldy, folded yellow pieces of paper with blurred ink markings. A quiet and understanding smirk came across my face as I tried to recall the forgotten spaces I had stored my own love letters from first, second, and non-important boyfriends of the past.
The crumpled notes passed between classes, the simple post-it stuck to a rose left on my bike, the letters mailed from overseas, and those that came during great despair – I was left thinking as my mother continued to reminisce – does anyone even write love letters anymore? With email and blackberry’s, text messaging and facebook it seems modern day love is expressed by few words, sent quickly and viewable to the masses. Will today’s kindergartener’s grow up never anticipating the ripping open of a mailed letter with the musty smell of some cheap cologne bearing long-winded, hand-written (okay maybe typed), private words declaring absolute and certain love?
Single by choice, just dumped single, angry-hateful-I-want-to-burn-his-stuff single, married, married happily, married miserably, married with children, divorced or deceased – I believe everyone one with any status should hold on tight to the words that once described the many reasons why you were admired.
Love letters are evidence of memories.
