My mother used to write to me once a week at Douglass College. I have to find those letters again. Our Figgy is just across the river in NYC, and when I walk Sug down the hill at night, I can see the glittering city skyline and think of her. But a letter is a letter is a letter. And I, for one, am grateful for the U.S. Postal Service for completing the delivery task.
I would likely be calmer and kinder if I took time to glue, glitter and mail daily.