Little Boxes

Remember a long time ago, back when the internet wasn't around and most families didn't have a computer in their home...and it cost a lot of money to make long distance phone calls?
Well way back then I used to write letters. I'd write letters to people in Chicago when we moved to South Lyon. I'd write letters to people in the South who came by to do something at our church. I'd write letters to friends who lived near me. I was a letter writing machine. And as a result of that, I received a whole lotta letters in the mail.
My mom had a box of cards and letters she had kept from a time in her life when she was very sick. Her collection of correspondence kept me busy for many hours at a time as a child. I'd read what her friends said about her, all their well wishes, and I felt like I was peeking into her life as a child. I knew that I would keep all my letters for my kids to read one day. And now I have a box. Full. Of. Letters.
I pulled the box out of the garage the other night and started reading through my childhood. I had forgotten how many people had come into my life. Some of the names were a mystery to me but others brought back vivid memories of camp and church and school. I even found 2 letters my brother wrote me while he was at Union University (before he was kicked out).
As I mentioned, these letters all occurred before the internet and cell phones so many of the letters had some pretty day to day info in them. I'd get all the info on the classes my friends were taking, some of them would write to me from each hour of their school day, keeping well informed. We would write about when we'd see each other again and who we'd bring along when we got together. Some of the letters included artwork...and some of it was good.
But now we have the internet...and cell phones...and I'm only in touch with a few of the people I was once close enough to to know that they were writing me from the bathroom.
So I started my internet search and found a few of my old friends. I haven't heard back form them yet. But it gives me the same feeling I would get right before the mail man drove past the mail box. I keep checking my email and myspace and facebook. Waiting to see if they've written back so that I can hear what they are doing now.
The anticipation is part of the fun.
The box is in my closet now and when Hazel is old enough to wonder about my life as a child I'll pull it out. She'll dump it on my bed just like I did with my mom's letters, and she'll read through them. She'll imagine me writing on PAPER?! and having to WAIT?! for my friends to respond a WEEK?! later. Then she'll skip over to her cell phone and start texting her friends. The sad thing is that she'll have nothing to show for it in the end. No box of memories for her kids to look through. I think we may have been the last generation to have pen pals. It makes me a bit sad.