The U.S. Post Office is under attack. Even as I write that, I can’t quite imagine it. Mailboxes and sorting machines removed, funding cut, and in my city, Minneapolis, two of them were destroyed in civil unrest. Whether stilling voting voices, or stealing packages it strikes me as a very tragic harbinger.
The post. Something coming to you from somewhere else. Across great distances, maybe. Full of professions, maybe. An envelope or box full of mystery—for you, or from you.
Letters can leave behind a story long after you are gone—like the letters featured with this post between my Father-in-law and his mother over many years.
The notion of letters finding their way to you is at the heart of a novel I recently finished. The sheer hope of writing words on paper and putting them into the world in the belief that someone will read them and feel Beloved.
Letters, and novels, too, represent freedom. The freedom to share yourself, and freedom to receive it.
Letters can change things. I dare you: write letters. Share yourself with people you care about. Not only will we feel more connected and maybe even loved, we might keep the U.S. Post Office thriving.
