Writing Letters

Letters straight from the heart

Okay, so I’ve never quite understood this thing in books and songs where someone writes letters but never sends them to whom they are writing to.  I’ve always thought that was so strange.

Not any more. I completely and totally get it.

Last Friday I met someone whom I spent maybe forty-five minutes talking to.  He is hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, and well, he is just really, really cool.  He’s a recovering artist and he was really interested in the fact that I write.  We left each other with the promise that when he finishes the trail in September, he plans to come back this way and he wants to call on me.  Or call me.  Or something that sounded equally cool.

And I can’t contact him until then.  I mean, I have his number….. but he is on the trail. You look up the PCT and see how good cell reception is.  Ha ha.

So, until then I have to wait.  And here I thought I went nuts before waiting for someone to call.  Nothing like this.  Mrs. Day said it took Walter 4-5 days after getting her number before calling. I have to wait over a month.

So, I am writing letters.  One a day for every day he’s on the trail.  They are to him, of course, but it’s all a one sided conversation and me asking questions that I hope I will be able to ask in person.  Maybe someday, depending on what happens, I can give them to him.

I think this letter writing thing is more of a journal type thing for me.  I’m using my good fountain pens, in brilliant red and sepia inks.  They seem very writer-esque to me.  And I am so a writer.  I thrive in the writer’s sphere.  I think.

Well, the letters make me keep thinking of Michael Buble’s song ‘Home’. Some of the lyrics are

And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two
“I’m fine baby, how are you?”
Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that”

So, has anyone ever written letters that they’ve never sent?

Signing off