Wish you were here! Greetings from the heart.

“Give me your address. I’ll write.”

Two weeks later, the first postcard slapped onto the welcome mat. A few words scrawled in black ink; the handwriting is looping and large. Perhaps it was written in a hurry, but it is sent with love. A few words just to say ‘Hello! How are you? You’re doing a great job.’

It’s the first postcard of many. Each one cheers me on, encouraging me to be brave and smile. They don’t arrive regularly, but they do arrive reliably. Reliably, when I’m having a difficult day or the work seems overwhelming. Small and slightly battered, those words and a little illustration cheer me up far more than a text ever could.

She never forgets to send them and they still arrive now I’ve moved again, punctuating the day with a bright point of light. Sometimes I can’t contain my delight when they arrive and I laugh with joy. She seems to know the magic of postcards too.

What magic? The way that such a small, fragile, cheap thing can transform a mood and a day. By all rights, postcards should be completely superfluous in our modern world of instant messaging and social media. But rather than becoming obsolete, they’ve become even more powerful. Like using a film camera or making your coffee on the stove, the restult may be less polished. It’s imperfect. But the beauty is in the imprecise ritual of it.

Letters and postcards have always been enchanting to me. I love receiving them. And I love sending them. I take care to pick out the design that this particular friend will love, or laugh at, before crafting my message. Sometimes it’s long and detailed like one sent home from holiday. Sometimes it’s punchy and short; a message written for maximum effect to cheer up a friend. Other times there’s nothing to say but you want to send it anyway and those are the times you have to make up some nonsense or copy out your favourite poem. Sometimes, those ones are the best because they’re sent with one sole purpose: to let the recipient know you love them.

That’s what it comes down to. Sending a postcard is an authentic act of love. It takes just that bit more time and effort to send and the recipient knows that. A postcard says: you are valued, you matter to me. Long enough to write this card.

So thank you for your postcards, A. And thank you to everyone else who has ever sent me a note in the post. What could be kinder than showing me I matter to you like that, time and again? Your postcards create a chain reaction of joy, where I continue my day with renewed passion and dedication. They’ve helped me finish essays, overcome sadness, come up with new ideas. They help me to remember I belong.

But the magic of postcards doesn’t end when you read it. What do you do when you receive a postcard? Why, you reply of course.

Reminded of how special and warm that little delivery made you feel, you get thinking: Who do I care about? Who needs reminding how much they mean to me?

That one little square of travel-torn cardboard sets off a chain reaction and before you know it, you have a pile of cards ready to shoot off across the globe. To old school friends, mentors, beloved aunts. To your best friend and the cousin you wish you knew better. The kind people you met whilst travelling. Your mum and dad.

Tell people that they matter to you. Tell them you’re grateful for them. Tell them about the weather where you are and tell them they have so much potential. Tell them on a postcard, because the words written there are more powerful than the words in a text.