When my sister moved to Texas in 2013, she gave me a wicker box of letters and postcards I had sent her over the years. At least she claimed the letters came from me, and my name was certainly signed at the bottom, but was I really ever that giddy, that earnest, that young?
As I approach my next birthday, I am particularly struck by a letter that says how flabbergasted I was to be turning 25. 25?!! I own hats older than that now.
Although we celebrate some birthdays as more significant than others, every anniversary of another year lived on this planet is a milestone, a point that seemed unimaginable at some stage in our lives. So whether you’re closer to 25 or 95, enjoy the ride and record the passing scenery with an occasional letter.
P.S. I’m still waiting to feel like a grown-up.
P.P.S I no longer write on bunny/gnome stationery.