In one of the boxes I sorted out, I found an enormous (think: 10 inches thick) pile of letters that my old buddies and I wrote to one another during and immediately post-college. Even when email was readily available, we still wrote. We wrote *obsessively*there for a while. I found Colorado photos from Cece, the letter from Limey Fish from the first time he sat in Glen Alt, watercolored letters from Tiff's trip to Germany. I found a nest of the lets-try-to-outdo-one-another-with-envelope-drawings letters that Lindsay and I sent, some of them so covered in dinosaurs and egg-shitting chickens that he had to write the address somewhere else so it'd actually get delivered. I miss those letters. I miss writing them. I hate that I'm throwing two hours a day away on the facetubeboingfilter instead of creating tangible moments like these, moments that would take even less time to finish and mean so much more.
I think I'm going to start sending letters again.