letters and cards

There’s something special about a handwritten note. In today’s age of emails and text messages, it’s great to be able to slow down and write someone a note, the way notes are meant to be written. It’s almost ritualistic, pulling the notepad out of the top drawer while flipping to a crisp fresh page. At the same time, I reach for what I would consider the perfect pen, pulling the cap off with just enough pressure that the side of the cap glides along the pen, creating that swish as it exposes the tip. I love the feel of a pen, a good solid everyday pen that feels comfortable in my hand, but not so formal that I’d feel like a dandy. I enjoy writing with the perfect pen; balanced, great action, and where the paper soaked up the ink. As the tip of the rollerball glides across the surface of the paper, a smile begins to appear on my face. Every stroke, every crossed t and dotted i exudes a freshly found confidence, transferred from my thoughts onto the notepad. As my pen reaches the end of the page and it scratches out the close of an open-ended farewell, I grin as I arrive at my favorite part: the signature. At the risk of appearing narcissistic, I must confess that I love signing a letter. It’s not that I like slapping my name on everything I see, but there’s so much personality that comes across in a signature. It becomes a statement, an expression of confidence and an announcement that I am not ashamed of what has been written up to this point. It’s an affirmation that I stand by my words. Now, while the ink is setting, the cap comes back over the tip, sealing with a smooth click. With the note signed and complete, it’s time to return the notepad and tuck the pen back in the case, hibernating until the next note needs writing.