Tuesday, February 14, 2017

And Speaking Of Love...

      as many people do in this month each year:

      It is wonderful when one’s most special in-all-the-world person verbally expresses love to you, but even more thrilling is when that person handwrites those words in a letter that can be read and reread countless times then and for years thereafter.  However, a handwritten, with pen on paper note or letter, is a forever gift.  It can be repeatedly read in its beginning and on your one hundredth birthday.  In those middle years, rereading can bring to mind a variety of emotions whether that person is still in your life or not.  Those letters and the memories that they bring forth are often barometers of your mental growth and accomplishments since then.


    It is a truly wonderful marriage, if after eight years, one can write to their mate, as did my Aunt Gladys to her husband, Bill, while she was visiting her parents in another state.

     The flowers and the boxes of candy you received two or longer years ago are long gone with just a wisp of memory of them remaining perhaps, now with no certainty of the sender.

     Love letters or notes are important to write to loved ones, even those you see everyday as my parents and my Bennett grandparents often did to their mates.

     “Dear Heart, I miss you so continuously that there’s just no explaining how I need and wish for you.  There couldn’t be anyone else for me ever ~ for you are me.  It’s perfectly natural that I could enjoy things only half as much as I would were the other half of me along.”
     And in another letter, “Every time a letter comes from you, every time your picture meets my eye, every time just a thought of you comes to me, I thrill at the wonder of your belonging to me!”

     Retrieved from my carefully saved files is my first love letter from my classmate, Duncan when we were five years of age.  On a four inch wide band of cream colored paper folded in half to make a card, there is a sagging red heart on the front, inside in red crayon:

Dear Joan
      I like you.
      You are nice.
Love
         Duncan

     Paul and I met on a Europe-bound ocean liner, he was returning to his native Germany after a long absence.  A friend and I were starting a three and a half month trip in Europe.  It was love at second sight.  Paul met us at various places and we wrote to each other not only on the trip, but for two years thereafter.  Although we loved each other deeply, he loved his executive job and country and I, my increasingly successful business.  But I enjoy rereading his letters.

     Excerpts from three of Paul’s once a week letters in his distinctive script writing:

     “When I see something particularly beautiful or watch something amusing, two eyes are missing to share these things with me.”
     “I can write two postcards full of praise for Salzburg ~ I can’t (and don’t want to) walk through the town without you very near and holding my hand.”
     “When I order a drink or two, each is a cheers to you and a special thanks that you are, in spite of distance, so close that you make every moment joyful!”
     “Thank you for loading up my battery of feeling so happy!  And when the band played our songs, I did not get too blues ~ I was sitting on a little white cloud near the big smiling moon ~ You and I were alone and together ~ very much so!”

     My first letter to Paul:

     ~ Majorca is as lovely as we had expected it to be. ~
     An emerald isle set in a sea of pale blue green water framed with weathered gray brown rocks ~ as a guide book might describe it.
     The weather is sunny and bright ~ the beaches sandy ~ the sunburn I got very rosy ~ the two American boys co-operative ~ the Spanish men over friendly ~ the beautiful views and scenes for photo taking endless ~ our hotel room nice ~ the bathroom close ~ the view from our window lovely  ~ the flowers colorful and numerous ~ the things to see unlimited, ~ the weather warm ~ the first strawberries delicious ~
     But the real magic of Palma de Majorca was contained in a small white envelope bearing German stamps that was waiting for me when we arrived at the hotel.

     An excerpt from another letter to Paul:

     Dearest Magician,
     For it is truly magic what you have done to me ~ something strange in the heart area when I think of you, which is often.  Many times when you are not actively in front of my mind, it is as if you are standing closely behind me seeing
and experiencing all that I do.

     Then there was David, seven states away, a never seen, no previous contact distant cousins, alerted to each other by another cousin because we are both very interested in family history.  Frequent telephone calls and letters plus my business trip to his state and spending time with him changed our relationship.

     He sent me a card with a wonderful poem by Dorothy Colgan, it starts with:
“I want to be
the blue skies
in your grayest days,
the sweet dreams
in your loneliest nights,
the melody of love
in your life’s song…”

     In the card, among the wonderful words David wrote that he was the world's worst letter writer, then he wrote:

     "You have made me rich and happy beyond words.  It is not often a fantasy is found.  I have!  You are to me: Hills + rills, puppies, kittens, birds, flowers, sunsets, all beauty, excitement and laughter and more ~ much more."
    
    “I pray ~ please Lord let me be worthy of her and to return to her even a little of the joy she has given me and please make the rocks in our path small ones.  Thank you Lord for my love of Joan and hers for me.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

     If you have never hand written a love letter, do it now, (a first version, then the final one) whether you are a teen with a first love or have been married to your dearest love for many years, put your love and admiration into handwritten words, not just on Valentines Day, but many times through the years.

I Will Write Love Letters
That Will Be Treasured Always

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