The Letter

Nobody writes letters any more. Real, handwritten letters of ink and paper. The kind that began friendships, cemented long distance love affairs. Anticipation, wasn’t that part of the thrill? Waiting for that blue airmail envelope to drop behind your door. With the waiting, came the wondering. Does he love me? What news, what ‘s new?

Email. Instant messaging. Text. And now we can speak our hearts desires in person across the night. The little cyclops eye on our computer beaming our smiles and laughter to a screen in front of the object of our affections, thousands of miles away. It is all so instant. In reality, do I wish my life to fly so very fast?

There is something so very magical about a letter. All the thought and feeling. All the breaths and tears. The scenting of pages and enclosing of hopes and dreams, keepsakes and photographs. Each little envelope crafted to travel time. Making it’s way to waiting heart and home.

Is it the way the pen and ink sweep across the page? Each word cut loose from a sometimes heavy heart. Set free to fly across the world into those waiting hands and open arms. Sometimes there is release in the writing. A sense of closure where it is sought.

Even should it never be sent. Should it lie in state with it’s brother’s and sisters, tied in ribbons and squirrelled away in a drawer. Resonance of thought and feeling remain, whether it be love, joy or pain. Perhaps, found half a century later, when enough time has passed.

I heard about a letter that arrived exactly 50 years after it was sent. The answer to a question long since forgot. After all the receding years it was still potent, full of love and the cause of much warm, shared laughter.

What about the letter, sent so it should never arrive? Coiled in an old Chardonay bottle and set free to sail the open seas. The writer could not know who might find and read her heart-breaking, beautiful words. She knew she would never see that face she so loved, ever again. This, to her was goodbye. The words she could never say. Despite the difference in language, strangeness of a foreign tongue the finder of this bottled treasure felt the raw beauty in those words. They will last forever, past fading summer suns. There was hope on those pages of a life made afresh. She knew closure would follow on. I wonder if she saw the news today and smiled at her life once lived?

If we stop writing. If we stop dreaming, hoping. There will be nothing left to say. Let the love affair with pen and paper never end, lest it become the true lost art. For there is nothing sweeter than the handwritten letter or card. You can read it over and over, clasp it to your heart. If you are lucky, it will light your world with laughter and joy. A priceless keepsake and treasure that transcends all time.

Yours, dear heart arrived this morning and made me smile broadly, lifting the cloak of sadness from this winter bound soul.

© FCS 2009

The Letter


Scotland, United Kingdom

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Artist's Description

The idea for this has been roaming about in my head for some time. Inspired by recent news articles, conversations and the pure delight that is a handwritten note from a dear heart.

Finally made it on to the page during my lunch hour! lol….yes handwritten and dreamt before it was ever typed.

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