Longhand Letters on Lined Paper

We used to write longhand letters on lined paper.

Our feelings would be folded into an origami of words.

Every single comma in blue ink would be inhaled by the intended reader

and then tucked away with much gratitude,

notwithstanding the sadness in the creases where the pages met.

. . .

In those days, we’d initial our letter and seal it with a kiss,

and trust that the mailman would bring it to our beloved,

who’d pull apart its folds like ripping off a Band-Aid,

smoothing between his palms the secrets, the cravings,

and the rapture committed to paper.

. . .

Today,

we type love notes on smartphones and hit SEND;

we eliminated the heartache of paper cuts;

and the postman is always in our pocket.

Now we are more concerned with staying current than being intimate.

I suppose that’s where all the modern heartbreak originates.

. . .

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the demise of love letters.

What they mean to me is not something easily deciphered;

the meaning is often hidden in the swirls of words,

what is crossed over and what is kept.

. . .

I guess what’s important is that even if love letters are obsolete,

the sentiment behind them still exists.

Even though the medium has evolved,

our capacity to share our feelings has not changed;

it should never change.

If anything,

the new ways should make it easier,

not harder for us to love.

— by Irina Patterson, January 7, 2022

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