epistles

There has been a letter writing campaign at my house here of late. Emails are flying in every direction. There are words to be shared (and some words to be kept inside.) I am thankful for the invention of the Internet (thanks Al Gore!) as it allows us all to keep in touch.

Plus I'm kinda afraid of the telephone. I haven't owned one in over two years!

Yes, I know that's absurd. Get the internet and learn to write. In fact you don't even have to do that - I like snail mail just as well (if not better) than email. So grab a pen and paper and jot down a note for me. You'll feel better after you do - and I'm usually pretty good at writing back.

usually.

I was sifting through my inbox today when I found an email wishing me a Happy New year from an old friend. We had gotten together sometime before Christmas (after putting it off for a couple of months) and reaquainted ourselves. And just like that, I let her slip away again. I felt like an ass finding that letter. Estella, if you happen on this space, I'm sorry.

The best letters here of late have been written just for me. They're exercises of the mind and of the pen. They're detailed accounts of conversations between me and God. They're not even meant to be read.

Thoughts solidified in ink, like clay hardening in the fiery kiln.

Of course, all things are temporary. Well, the tangeable anyway. In the long run, I guess maybe just having the thought is permanent enough.

-d/