When was the last time you sat down to write a letter? One that made your mind race and your fingers ache? I don’t know about you, but my hand can’t ever handle the frantic pace of the words that jumble together in my mind. And sometimes my mind moves on to an entirely different thought completely and I’m left trying to piece together the last sentence in a way that makes sense.
But there’s beauty in that, isn’t there?
And, like so many other things in this world, it’s a dying art.
I owed my best friend money for a trip we are taking this week. Rather than simply stuff a check in an envelope, I thought I’d write her a card. It’s not a gesture I do very often (heck, I can’t even get it together in time to send out Christmas cards) but I believe it was one that was appreciated. Maybe it even gave her a good chuckle.
This morning as I lightly stretched and woke up my muscles, one thought kept nagging at me. I knew that I had to sit and craft a letter to the homeowners of the house that Bryan and I fell in love with. Perhaps it won’t get us anywhere (it probably won’t, truthfully), but it can’t hurt either, right? And so I sat down and I wrote about how we wouldn’t change a thing because we want to honor the home and the care the previous owners gave it. I detailed the morning coffee I’d love to enjoy overlooking the lake, the dock where I’d meditate, and how we’d warm up on winter nights with our dog by the fireplace.
I don’t have much. But I do have my words, and if it can help me land the home of my dreams, then I’ll at least try.
When was the last time you sat down to write a letter?