My Mom sent me a letter last week. A real live, handwritten letter. It was nothing, a quick one page note with some news from home. What a joy to open an envelope with no bill inside. To hold onto a scrap of paper, see her familiar handwriting, and know that someone far away loves me. I sat at the table and read it once, twice. I could picture her sitting across from me, asking with wide eyes if I ever imagined that a quiet, book-smart girl in my grade 7 homeroom would grow up to be a burlesque dancer with her picture in the paper. I shook my head as I read her words. No, Mom. Life is full of surprises.
Sort of like having tea after school. You never know what will mean something to someone else. Maybe letters should get sent more often!