you don't know what to write?
I don't even know why I am here writing this. . . but I have a few wild guesses. . .
1.)I don't want to clean my messy house.
2.)There isn't anything worth reading at Tnet tonight.
3.)It's too early to go to bed.
4.)I can't see well enough to read my new book. (Eyes hurt.)
5.)I love to procrastinate.
6.)I love to write.
Growing up, I had 40 pen pals of all ages. (Good thing that stamps were only 3 cents apiece and that I babysat for a family of 8 kids for 25 cents an hour!) We wrote back and forth regularly. Some of my pen pals were adults. Looking back, I have no idea why adults would write to a ten year old kid. . . but those were the good ole days and people did stuff like that. Just because.
I remember when one pen pal died. . . she was 18 and I was 10. It taught me how precious life is. It was a neat time to live and to be pen pals with others who enjoyed writing. I saved those letters for so many years. I don't know what happened to them after I went away to boarding school during high school. I would give anything to be able to re-read them now. I wonder if they saved any of mine?
That makes me sad for my grandchildren. . . they never experienced the pleasure of writing letters to friends they never met in person. I am sure that they would scoff at Grandma and think I was a little crazy (OK . . . a whole lot crazy) for hanging on to these memories. After all, I never even met one of the 40 pen pals in person. Not a single one.
Yet, in my heart, I knew each and everyone as if they lived next door. Tonight, I am glad they didn't . . . as I might never have gotten to KNOW them like I did writing letters. If I could wish one thing for every child on this earth, I would wish they could have a pen pal. Thanks, God, for the memory!