Mondays are just young Fridays

I spent time over the weekend writing letters, replying to cards, sending an overdue thank you note, and catching up on correspondence.
I enjoy writing letters.
I like communicating through the more traditional snail mail. I love postage stamps. I like the tactile feeling of pencil on paper, it seems more personal to me.
The thing is, I have been tardy lately.
It just seemed hard to find the time. And I wasn’t busy.
I was, however, caught up in this pandemic thing like everybody else. All the news of the spread of the deadly COVID-19 virus was wearing me down, and it was coming at me all the time.
It was rather isolating.
I wasn’t making the time to write a letter at a time when I had more time to myself.
It felt onerous to even attempt a letter, and that didn’t feel right
It’s been like this over for almost eight months.
There are so many things we aren’t doing.
You become accustomed to all the things you can’t do that it affects the things you like to do.
I like writing letters; it’s like sending a long-distance smile.
I haven’t been smiling enough lately, but sitting down with my pencil and paper yesterday helped.
Joy comes from the small things we do.
Pleasure is found in the things we can do.
Communicate when you can. We all need to hear or read other voices. We are all going through the same thing.

11/02/2020                                     j.g.l.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.