Of Writing Letters

Of Writing Letters

Whatever the heart may have penned down; such act is a labor drawn out of true and genuine emotions. May it be a word or two, a sonnet or an epic, in all its grandeur or plainness; it is always a work of extraordinary worth, priceless even. Deposited in memory, etched in time, painted in the skies and it echoes in one’s lifetime.

In this day and age writing letters is almost a dying practice, perhaps only a minute number of people, especially of the new generation, indulge themselves in the beauty and calmness brought about by writing a simple note to a lengthy and yet emotion-laden epistle. In a world ruled by the constant evolution of modernity; wherein time becomes a secondary priority in what used to be an unhurried, careful journey of life; people, unbeknownst to their own deeds are gradually extinguishing the existence of the pen and paper practice.

Take a Sunday afternoon as an example; a kin living overseas crossed your mind, it’ll be two and a half weeks from today before his natal day. What do you do? I’ll bet my left foot you’ll either shrug the thought off and try to remember the occasion on the day itself, after all it’ll take you a fraction of a second to send an e-mail greeting or an sms to greet him a happy birthday. It was just a few days ago when my Lola asked me to buy a birthday card for her youngest daughter; my aunt who’s been living abroad for quite a while. I gladly obliged and the next day my Lola told me she wants to post the card herself. It was already a feat that someone as old as an 88-year old woman would actually remember and exert time and effort to write and mail a greeting card for someone, the sad part of this story is that, the nearby local post-- the mail post which has been around since my earliest memory of writing letters was no longer there. My Lola returned home with her greeting card on hand. How unfortunate it is that we are no longer holding the ground to preserve and treasure traditions that will actually enrich our own selves and heritage even. “The post office used to be there”, that thought lingered on my mind. Anyway, I volunteered to send the card myself at the central post station. I then wondered what happened to exchanging letters from one school to another partner school across continents. Such was one of my most cherished memories of grade school—learning to write letters in English class. I am not certain if such method of teaching is still around, perhaps they may have altered the usual long sheet of paper and pencil with e-mails and e-learning chatrooms. I wouldn’t know at this point.

Having reflected on the matter and perhaps in the plain irony of it; as I write, err type these thoughts on my laptop, I am but a mere and guilty subservient of modernity. Enslaved by the onslaught of tomorrow’s uncustomary and revolutionized ways of communications, I am humbled by my own convictions.

I am being true when I say that I have not forgotten writing letters but I know I am not writing as much as I should be. In my own little way, one short note, one postcard, one letter for one person at a time, I shall try and keep the beauty and simplicity beyond grandness of writing letters.