There is an immediacy we expect nowadays.

A response within hours, minutes or seconds. Without which we get anxious, frustrated, cross; we “lose our mind” waiting for the answer. Without a reply we start to question ourselves: Were we unclear? Did we, by gosh, suggest a reply wasn’t warranted?

The idea that we might need to wait for a response is so unusual in the immediate satisfaction world of today, and yet it exists within what is mostly now traditions of yesteryear.

The postcard. The notecard. The thank you card. The birthday card. The Christmas card. The Easter card. The wedding card. The life milestone card. The sympathy card. The card to simply say I was thinking of you. A letter.

Whilst I fully appreciate the place of email, text, messenger and the like, there is an intimacy to pen and paper which cannot be replicated.

A simple piece of paper in a plain envelope can carry the most emotional and emphatic of words. A beautiful card on heavy stock can have no words, and yet communicate everything.

We no longer dip a quill in an ink pot. We no longer blot our print before we fold the page. We no longer seal the envelope with dripped wax. But that doesn’t mean we don’t enclose a piece of ourselves within the folds of paper we send out into the world. Something to be treasured by the recipient, both in the moment and in their memory of receipt.

As the generations ahead of us pass away, much is lost; whilst we treasure the letters sent by those before us, let’s send more.

Thoughts from afar. Apologies. Love letters. Last words.

So important.