Urged on by some type of Facebook viral article, Anne has decided to mail (and presumably write) a letter a day during February. Of course there are Sundays and public holidays that won't count, and we bugger off to Belize at the end of the month, but as usual I digress.
I received a letter from my wife today, and what a lovely and reminiscing thing it was.
I forget that we have boxes of letters from the mid 90's when we lived on different continents, with no e-mail, and a limited phone budget. Each day I'd get home from work and hope there would be an envelope with neatly applied exotic stamps in the top right corner and 'Broderick' in the top left.
We wrote to each other about 10 times a month, for about 2 years, and always found sparkling new content.
Today, Anne's handwriting still has the same squiggly readability and as probably only a writer can, she manages to make the simplest of actions seem exciting and profound.
And she has never been happier. Ironically writing has been replaced by caring for kittens of all shapes, ages and sizes. Her business is booming and she has a long list of happy clients and even happier cats.
Think I'll go read my letter again, and start to formulate a reply. If only my handwriting stood the test of time ...