Handwritten

I recall my penmanship books in grade school with page after page of dots sandwiched between two long black lines. I learned to write cursive between those lines. We drew lower and upper case letters—hundreds of them—under the scrutiny of the nuns until they declared perfection. The torturous task seemed endless, but then something wonderful happened. Our handwriting soon identified us just as our voices and fingerprints did. If a student forgot to write his or her name on a test, the teacher knew to whom the paper belonged by a quick glance at the handwriting. As a young adult, I wrote hundreds of letters and received many back in reply. I saved them all for they memorialize those years bringing clarity to the fog of memories.

We rarely handwrite any more. Keyboards are today’s pens and pencils, and the computer or phone screen is the paper. Society was thrust into a seemingly idyllic future, albeit willingly. We stood in awe of the possibilities the new technology promised and delivered, especially the instant access to those we held dear. Now, the world demands we type, and so we do, as taking a writing instrument to paper often pains us.

I recall the frequent excitement of seeing a letter in the mailbox and tearing the envelope open to see what words were held inside just for me. There is beauty in holding the paper once touched by the giver’s hand. On paper, the warmth of the words are felt. Of course a note can be sent by text or email, and while it is no less sincere, it will never be a treasure.

Treat Yourself

There are many beautiful notecards in stores just waiting to be sent. The butterfly cards in the photograph above are from Crane and Co. https://www.crane.com/stationery/boxed-stationery-sets/notes-and-cards?p=3