Our Mailboxes Need Some Love.

Hey Friend | Daily Letter July 13th

Hey Friend,

I want to live in a world where we receive handwritten letters in our mailboxes again.

We could write to each other about anything and everything. What do you think?

How healing.

How humanizing!

The garden woes. The long morning walk. The shells you found. The walking stick you carved. The way the afternoon light comes through your window at 4 pm. The art gallery you visited this weekend. The breakfast you ate today. The secret crush. The last movie that made you cry. The only pair of jeans you actually wear. Your yummy smelling lotion. The book you stayed up all night reading. The grief you are nursing.

Honestly, nothing grabs my attention quite like a handwritten letter. A letter from you makes me stop, teaches me the definition of savor.

The personal stories and intricacies of your life, what it’s like to be you— these are my favorite kind of headlines to read.

Call me nosy, but I’m dying to hear from you, my friend. Or maybe it’s just my curiosity waking up. Why don’t we have pen pals anymore as adults?

I couldn’t care less about eye-catching content on socials, today’s breaking world news, or New York Times best sellers; I just want the behind-the-scenes on your up-and-coming business, your frayed relationships, your timeless obsessions, or your unconventional dreams.

You can tell me about what you’ve learned and the wisdom you’ve gained, but honestly, I think we need more letters that read like hormonal teenage diaries. Our world could use fewer preachy sermons and obnoxious opinions and more talk about what made you laugh so hard you cried or the wacky weekend hobby you finally decided to try.

I want a letter in the mail in your sloppy handwriting or your swirly cursive, where you confess your so-called mistakes and muddied past, your Monday struggles, or the craziest thing that happened this week.

Writing a letter is one of the simplest ways to build a connection with ourselves and the people in our lives. Intimacy, vulnerability, and courage come through the page without us even trying.

In a letter, we pour out pieces of our essence, tuck them into an envelope, seal it with a prayer for the receiver to hold it close to their chest, like a treasured artifact. The whole process takes time and intention; we give ourselves space to breathe into our desire to be known and witnessed by another.

With a steady diet of thin connections based on algorithmic feeds and highlight reels, our mailboxes sit barren and infertile. Water bills, roof cleaning ads, Amazon orders, or the yearly Happy Birthday postcard from the dentist's office don’t count.

Whose mailbox will you resurrect today?

PS: The last movie that made me cry was Voicemails for Isabelle.