Every Christmas, I look forward to one gift – my father’s handwritten letter on nothing-special paper, that peeps out of my stocking on December 25. It is so special that it usually takes me 24- 48hrs before I read it. My father is a man of potent but few words. They always make me cry. In the last 5 years, I have reciprocated, giving both of my parents a letter. This year is a bit more meaningful as my father was diagnosed with Lymphoma right before his birthday in June and was not feeling well during the holidays.
As technology drives society, I realize how much integrity is behind the hand-written notes. We are so busy in our daily life that expediency and convenience of email replace the elegance and lost art of actually penning words on paper. When I read a letter, it is like I am having an intimate conversation with that person. It is not always easy for people to express themselves verbally.
I find myself more often going to stores like Papyrus, John L. Strong or Dempsey and Carroll in my neighborhood when I want to express myself in a v. personal way. I love to get lost in the thickness of the paper, the classically designed motif on the front the card..which is the first thing the person receiving a note will see.
Yes, this holiday season was tough emotionally on many levels. I hate to think that suffering so much loss in a short amount of time is what it takes reawaken you but sometimes we all need a jolt.
Writing is a form of therapy for me. Whether it is a thank you note, a personal letter or a journal…yes, I actually do keep handwritten journals as well….I see it as a opportunity to share sentiment in a raw and authentic manner.
Music mood: none because I am watching football.. 🙂
Your Pleasure Proseur….