Once long long a go, I had a pen pal. I’m not sure what made me think of my pen pal this afternoon, but I’ve found myself replaying old memories and she popped up.
Her name was Rachel and she lived in Cornwall. Her grandparents rented their beautiful house out ever year for the holiday season and that’s how we met.
The house was a three bedroom detached with a pool, an edible garden and orchard. I’m pretty sure we spent 4 or 5 summers at this beautiful house. The lady (Jean) and her husband (Ray) were always so welcoming. They looked after us, even though that wasn’t part of the holiday rental agreement. They were the kindest couple. Fun loving and gentle, they helped to fill our home from home with sunshine.
I met Rachel and her brother Mark one day while we were swimming in the pool. Rachel and I were a similar age and her brother Mark was a similar age to my brother. We had a love of nail polish in common and that’s all it took for an eight year-old me to develop a new friendship. We spent 2 weeks of the holidays together for a few years before we decide to write each other. We wrote before becoming too busy for one another. The time between letters got longer and eventually we just stopped writing.
The first ever letter I got from my pen pal was written in different coloured ink. It must have taken an age to write, and I was envious of how her writing looked so perfect to me. My handwriting changed all the time, as a child this was slightly annoying. Even now it’s never the same and it depends on my mood as to how it looks. I attribute this to my mental issues, but I like this. I don’t like to always be the same after all.
I miss writing letters. Taking pride and time in cursive script and double checking all my spellings. I must have wrote and re-wrote my letters a dozen times before I finally sealed an envelope and stuck on a stamp. I miss pretty stationery. I miss the pure art of letter writing and what technology doesn’t give us.
I’m open to a pen pal. It would be great to have a go. Read without judgement and write just the same. There is something so personal about a hand written letter. Raw and beautiful. Fancy having a go? Get to my contact page and email me; we could switch addresses and start putting that cursive to good use.