Ever wonder what happened to the days when the Post Office was tagged with the huge responsibility to deliver letters to your faraway love (and of course, vice versa)?
One ritual I had while living in Africa was to resist opening my love letters until night fell. Then it would be the perfect time to pour myself a glass of red wine before I would rip them open quickly and then slowly read and savour each and every word, one by one.
Now we no longer have the luxury of time. Rapid replies to our lover’s e-mails, texts, pins and pings don’t quite hold the same meaning as they once had on paper. We hit “delete” far too quickly, far too often as we toss our relationships into the icon that says “Recycle Bin”.
Ah…our affinity with paper…love letters remain hidden in their respective envelopes, one piled on top of the other, neatly bound by a single ribbon (always a ribbon). Then one rainy day the ribbon is untied and those memories once safely stashed away would be released. And the past becomes the present…once again.
