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
