Real Letters

I sat down tonight and thought, "Oh, I'll write my Aunt Dorothy a letter."

She died a couple months ago, but the desire to write her remains.

I usually wrote her once a month - placing some bougainvillea in the envelope to brighten her long Iowa winters. Dort was the only person I wrote REAL letters. She was the last person I knew without email or a facebook account, without a cell phone or fax, blackberry or iphone.

I miss the ritual of sitting down, looking through my stationary, finding a good, black writing pen and telling her what my little hellion Froggy has been up to. Something is missing in the technologically improved letter, the email and text, yes even the blog. The ritual, like the sacrament or kneeling, bowing one's head is lost in the flickering screen-- that tradition of pink stationary, a pressed flower, and words written by hand, just can not be replicated in our cyberworld.

With Aunt Dort's passing, also went my reason for sitting down, opening up my black box with stationary, and finding the perfect pen to jot down the day for someone I love.