I've written four more letters. That's three in one a day. Or night. I wrote them after Simon and Minuet were in bed.
No. 2 is destined for Colorado.
No. 4 will end up in Jasper, Texas.
No. 3 is addressed to a young man in Chicago.
I haven't sent any new postcards. Confession: I have never been any good at writing postcards. What's worth scrawling on the back of photograph for all the world to see? Besides, I'm no good at penning clever one-liners worth the postage it takes to send them to anyone I know who wouldn't look at the front, the back, then the front again, and wonder, "What the heck?"
Well, maybe if I were on vacation. But if I were, surely I'd be having too much fun to find enough time to write, "Wish you were here." Right?
But any how . . . I've recorded the letters I've written this week. Feels a little like old times.
Why not write a letter or a note to someone. Waiting, anticipating, hoping for a letter in return fosters Letter Hope.
So, write on!