I also love it when people write letters to me–I’ll be honest about it. There is nothing quite like the thrill of donning hat, boots, and scarf, walking to the mailbox while the leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the thrill of peaking in the mailbox. I catch my breath a little just as I open it, hold it in a light suspense, and gasp delightedly as I see the familiar handwriting of a dear friend from far away. I snatch the letter out of the box and can’t erase the smile from my face. (I will also admit that I sometimes [ok, frequently] burst out with the most un-feminine display of a fist pump in the air.)
Sometimes I rip the letter open right then and there . . . incapable of restraining my eager delight. I have been known to sit down right there at the mailbox to revel in the words written on the page–the special thoughts of a kindred soul.
Sometimes I bask in the knowledge of a sweet letter still unread in my hands. I hurry to my favorite secret spot to read it in the ambiance of beautiful autumn nature. There are times when the delight of a yet unopened letter makes the opening of the letter that much more special.
Unfortunately, I have not received such a letter for a very long time. I do get special little notes pushed under my door by my sweet dorm girls very frequently. These have a dear special place in my heart as well. Walking into my room, seeing an envelope on the floor with my name on it–“Grace”, “Gracie-Lou”, “Lou”–thrills me!
All that to say . . . I still think that the delight of sitting down and hand-writing a letter outweighs all the delights of receiving a letter. I honestly do so love to write a letter to a kindred spirit, pouring out my thoughts on paper, writing of the delights of the little things in life, folding up the paper and hiding it away in the envelope, writing on the outside in whimsical handwriting, licking the stamp (I love the lick ones!), and taking the delightful walk to the mailbox. Ah, the bliss!