for the love of letters…
I miss the rumpled corners of correspondence,
the ink blots and crossouts that show
someone lives on the other end, a person
whose hands make errors, leave traces.
I miss fine stationary, its raised elegant
lettering prominent on creamy shades of ivory
or pearl grey. I even miss hasty notes
dashed off on notebook paper, edges
ragged as their scribbled messages–
can’t much write now–thinking of you.
When letters come now, they are formatted
by some distant computer, addressed
to Occupant or To the family living at–
meager greetings at best,
salutations made by committee.
Among the glossy catalogs
and one time only offers
the bills and invoices,
letters arrive so rarely now that I drop
all other mail to the floor when
an envelope arrives and the handwriting
is actual handwriting, the return address
somewhere I can locate on any map.
So seldom is it that letters come
That I stop everything else
to identify the scrawl that has come this far–
the twist and the whirl of the letters,
the loops of the numerals. I open
those envelopes first, forgetting
the claim of any other mail,
hoping for news I could not read
in any other way but this.
“Elegy for the Personal Letter” by Allison Joseph, from My Father’s Kites. (c) Steel Toe Books, 2010
This is my inspiration for the weekend. That and daylight saving….which I eagerly await.
What I adore about the paper/invitation industry is that people like Allison still exist in this world. People that love ink blots, scribbled messages, hand written addresses, and stamps that are hand placed.
There are people out there that appreciate Thomas and Vera Scrowston’s hand written love letters. The couple kept in touch during WWII by writing letters almost everyday – even using a code to bypass the censors.
There are some people that are still passionate about handmade paper, hand-written letters and hand-sealed envelopes. I create invitations and stationery for people just like that to enjoy…for the love of letters.
Stationery samples coming soon.