Growing up, I had a few influential pen pals, a kid my age and a 70-80 year old man. This precious correspondence with the latter continues to impact me today. It’s been much harder to write cards since my grandma died and I lost the weekly ritual of writing to her, especially during COVID times. To this day, I’ll still catch myself buying extra cards thinking about which I’ll send to her, forgetting it’s not an option. What’s helped most in getting me out of my postcard slump has been writing the kids of loved ones. I remember that feeling of receiving a letter for me and the excitement in trying to understand what he shared with me, often re-reading over every sentence he wrote numerous times.
One of my close friends texted me recently sharing that her kiddo was bringing in one of my postcards for show and tell at her pre-school so she could tell them all about her pen pal. I had been writing her since before she could really read, relying on her mom to translate my horrible handwriting. Somehow somewhere along the line I became someone to her, despite only seeing her a few times.
There are times in life when it’s pivotal to hear or reach someone and building a habit of connecting with my loved ones kids has that same urgency as writing my rapidly aging grandma, wondering which card would be the last she’d read. I want them to feel distinct, loved, and seen. I am writing them — not their parents with a little “p.s.” for them.
Perhaps one day, they’ll write back.
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