Letters

I started writing this on 4/25/11.  Well, I'll just say that the note is a keeper.  Just two days ago my daughter came to me with the note and said, "Mom, let's keep this in the memory box, ok?"

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Garrison Keillor once said something lovely about writing notes.  I won't repeat it; I'll say that I like to touch that which others have made by hand.

There lies, on the bookshelf with my daughter's books, a note of Thanks from my parents to my daughter.  She sent them a drawing for their refrigerator.  The note is not dated, thought I can peg within months when it was written.

It was the last note my father wrote to those of us at this house.  After that he just wrote his name... and now he is unable to do that anymore.  His handwriting is shaky, and  he wasn't sure if he remembered the word for "trees" (he did) so he drew a picture next to the word.

This note is a keeper.  Dad wrote it with his own hand, while he still could.  And I can touch it.

I have no point.  Unless maybe it's to go out and touch, make contact, with someone today.

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Postnote:  Mom sent a birthday card that she had bought several weeks ago.  The card-part said something about being "from both of [the parents]."  And it was something that both of them would be equally likely to pick out.  She wrote something like, "oops, it's just me now -- he would have agreed with me."

Mom and Dad:  I love you always.