Yesterday I asked you to share stories about "letters received or given". Many of you did, and what wonderful stories you told.
If you have not read yesterday's comments you might take a look, you won' be disappointed.
Reading over your stories in the comment section, I was caught by how a story, no matter how small or grand touches, connects, and brings us to our own truth, to light, and eventually to a safer place. Stories walk us deeper into that which is our own path. They show us that we are interconnected by bridges that gap joy and pain, or take us through the loops learned from each other's experiences. Stories pave the way for us to walk, run, or sit and sometimes a bit of each. Sharing our journey gives a hand.
Victoria wrote:
"When I was a very young girl living in southern California my friend and I were playing in the area behind all of our houses called a WASH……the area was for run off from heavy rain storms. The perfect place to stretch your imagination……and catch horny toads.
We were minding our own business when a car drove over one of the overpasses and threw out a neatly tied stack of letters. We ran for the package ….. Opened it and started reading. The love and longing and sadness and sharing of happy moments was over whelming even for our little minds. We felt like intruders.
We buried the letters so no one else could intrude like we had……now as an adult I wish I'd of kept them……they spoke volumes….and they were a little piece of history."
Debbie Z. wrote about cherished "love" letters:
"I think of two letters. The first is a letter I still have that my husband wrote to me when we were dating nineteen year olds. He wrote, "I long to twirl you around in field, the sunlight shining in your beautiful hair." We are now fifty-six years old and he could no longer be labeled a romantic guy. I love him still and it helps to have that old letter he wrote, filled with sentiments he no longer expresses.
The other letter is in my parents' possession but I would love to inherit it someday. It was written by my great-great grandfather from a Civil War prison in South Carolina. He speaks of eating grass, his belly hurting with hunger. He longs to see those he loves once again. Two letters, each with a different kind of longing. Letters mingle souls."
Linda wrote that she cherished a letter that her Grandfather wrote her when she was a little girl. She said, "Instead of writing in his own voice, his dog "penned" the letters to me, telling me what was going on back home, in the garden, and how much my grandfather missed me."
Have you ever pinned a letter in another voice than your own?
Jenny K. wrote about a letter she wrote to a boy her in third grade class who had gone through a very difficult surgery.
" Our teacher asked us to write a letter to him if we wanted to. I was the only one who wrote a letter. I stayed in during recess to finish it. At the end of the school year, my teacher read a copy of my letter for the parents program. I was shocked and embarrassed. I had no idea that my 2 page letter was anything special. I just wanted that boy to know that I was praying for him and that I wanted him to be able to play again like me. My teacher teared up at the end of the letter. It made me feel special that my teacher thought my letter was sweet."
Have you ever received a letter from someone unexpectedly that gave you hope, and encouragement?
Your writing your memories brought life to memories held. For me your sharing brought memories of my Grandmother and her broken English letters that I loved, friendships from childhood, secrets kept and shared. Thank you for writing your "letter" stories and sharing them with everyone here.
I encourage you to read yesterday's comment section, the "letter" stories are touching, and give such wonderful ideas of what to write to one another, and moreso the sacredness of shared feelings and thoughts.
Thank you for taking the time to compose your letters yesterday.
The randomly selected winners of some old letters are:
Tut-Tut,
Smee,
Tammy Hensley,
and
Robin Williams.
Please email your addresses.
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