“There’s something intoxicating about a handwritten piece of mail sailing to us across the US Postal Service. ”
Katy Hackworthy
There’s something intoxicating about a handwritten piece of mail sailing to us across the US Postal Service. Every time my roommate slides a pile under my door, I delight in everyone’s unique handwriting, declaring who sent a bit of themselves to make my day a little brighter. The floors of my room are strewn with half ripped envelopes tucked into piles of overdue library books, little reminders motivating me to send out a bit of extra sunshine myself.
This holiday season, I had every ambition to write love letters to pals, family members, and even old acquaintances as gifts. Due to the way things tend to go during that bustling time of year (where do the hours run off to?), and a solid dose of grief pervading almost every aspect of my life, I only sent off maybe one or two bits of snail mail.
Lucky for me, the pile of empty but stamped & addressed envelopes still sat on my desk among spilled candle wax, ink weary pens, and half full journals. While I haven’t completed the pile, I did dive in headfirst to reciprocate the delight I’ve felt coming home to a handwritten letter. What’s the new year for if not to make good on old promises made to yourself in a time that once seemed to be brimming with possibility?
For even more accountability, I took some time off social media, but only after asking if anyone would like to be pen pals. To my delight, I got a few takers, including someone I’ve mostly been in professional spaces with whose kind words, meticulously done coloring pages, and sweet cards have brought such joy since our new form of correspondence, and someone who I connected with on a dating app many moons ago who happens to have the same visceral love for the outdoors, working with youth, and Ross Gay as I do.
While I’m not always consistent, I’ve spent a good chunk of the first few months of 2021 with pen and paper instead of tired eyes & mindless scrolling. As a result, I have gorgeous art reminding me someone out there supports me, I have reclaimed my time in service of myself and others, and I have strengthened connections with people who were mere acquaintances before the word “pal” accompanied our pens.
“It’s easy to see letter writing as something “less than” writing, but for me, it’s been a welcome creative outlet when I haven’t had the capacity to take the more emotionally laborious path towards poetry, or explore some of the heaviness I’ve been carrying around through creative nonfiction. ”
It’s easy to see letter writing as something “less than” writing, but for me, it’s been a welcome creative outlet when I haven’t had the capacity to take the more emotionally laborious path towards poetry, or explore some of the heaviness I’ve been carrying around through creative nonfiction. I welcome the intimacy that comes from having an audience of one person instead of having to consider a wider swath of readers. The time I’ve spent writing these letters has been a form of healing during such a heavy time, and I’m grateful for the newness the changing of the seasons will continue to bring.
From a rapidly scrawled postcard from a pal abroad to a sprawling letter from a sweet stranger or lover, something about the extra bit of intention involved always makes this kind of correspondence all the more special, especially in times of increased isolation & neverending screen time. From a pen pal’s response trusting me with work advice & a gorgeous, thoughtful coloring sheet that sits atop my dresser to telling my best friend to save one of my letters “for a time she really needs it”, it’s been extra wonderful to witness the tangible impact of these correspondences. I hope you take some time out of your busy, weird, & wild schedules to make some room for this intention, and send a little sunshine for the price of a stamp.