You've Got Mail

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

When I was in 8th grade, my English teacher taught us the fine art of letter writing. To further encourage our skills, she gave us the chance to buy a membership to a world pen-pal club and make new friends. I forked over something like $5 and asked for three pen pals who were female and who spoke English. I ended up with Lori from Canada, Flavie from France and Anne from Australia.

I was so excited to get those little slips of paper with their addresses on them. I got to learn all about the joys of "air mail" and got this little thrill everytime I wrote "Par Avion" on Flavie's envelopes. I also learned the fine art of writing very small on thin paper so that I didn't get lectures from my mom about how much it cost to send a simple letter overseas.

Lori, Flavie and I wrote for a few months and then the letters sort of just died off. Anne, on the other hand, was my soul mate. 

Now-- I have to admit that when I first saw I had an Aussie pen pal, I was excited because, well, the love of my life at that time, Rick Springfield, was from Australia and I felt this instant connection to him since I was writing someone from his mother land. (Hey, I was 14... I used to think that because I had a pink polo shirt and my crush had a pink polo shirt, we were destined to live happily ever after, too.)

Anne was one day younger than me and we shared so many common interests. We liked the same kinds of music, fashion, cosmetics, boys, movies, etc. We shared similar family woes. We had big dreams. 

Anne and I wrote each other every week from the time we were 14 until we both graduated from college/university. We both survived puberty, broken hearts, first dates, learning to drive, fights with our families, desires to travel, college plans, career goals, first loves... and all of the other "momentous" things that happen in a young woman's life. Then, "reality" reared its ugly head. She moved to Japan to teach and I stayed in my little college-town trying to get a teaching job and trying to figure out what I really wanted to do with the rest of my life. We eventually stopped writing. I don't know if it was my "turn" or hers, but the letters just stopped coming one day.

I think about her a lot and often wonder what she is doing and what kind of life she made for herself. I still have her parents' address in Australia and think about sending a letter to them just to see if they'd send it to her and maybe she and I could have one of those "perfect for a daytime talk show" reunions where we both admit that we've missed each other over the years. I tried finding her on the internet, but her name is pretty common and it was like finding a needle in a haystack to even try.

In this day and age of instant messages and e-mail, I miss letters. Real honest-to-goodness letters. I miss walking to the mailbox and seeing an envelope with a friend's handwriting on it. There is just something special about knowing that someone took the time to sit down and write something on paper and then put it in an envelope and send it.

Anne and I were always creative with our letters. Stickers, pictures, artwork, scribbles. Pink paper. Purple paper. Glittery paper. Each time we wrote, we tried to take it just a little further than the last time. We even used to send gifts to each other.

I love to go to the Hallmark store and buy greeting cards and then randomly send them to my friends every now and then.  I know it must be nice to open the mailbox and have something other than junk mail waiting for them.

When was the last time you surprised someone with something you actually had to write, lick and mail?