It's no secret that I'm a fan of written correspondence. As much as I enjoy the convenience of email and the efficiency of texts, there's nothing quite so special as receiving a hand-written note. It means that the other person took the time to select stationary, write you a letter, stuff it in an envelope and send it to you. Moreover, I think it's quite meaningful to hold something tangible from a friend or loved one. It becomes a connection with you and that person, transcending time and distance. A letter's physical existence, relative to the digital existence of emails and texts, seems to give the written words a greater sense of permanence, as if the sentiments expressed in them will be timeless as well. You can reread them years later and still remember how you felt the first time you read them.  Love letters in particular have the power to capture the intense ardor of one moment and make it last forever. Long after the lovers have gone, the written testaments of their affections remain.

My godmother's parents, 1929.

The reason why this topic has been on my mind is because I have just attended a memorial for my godmother's mom, who passed away this week at the age of 102. At the end of the prayer service, my godmother brought out a small rectangular box and announced to the small group gathered that she wanted to share something with us. Inside the box was a stack of old letters that were written by her father to her mother before they got married. Some of the letters dated back to 1928. The fine, rose-colored stationary were filled with words of ardent longing and devotion. As my godmother read aloud one of them, I couldn't help but think that they were words that every girl would want to hear from her suitor. Apparently, his efforts to win her heart worked. They had 10 children and were married for over 50 years before his death.