...because Mamaw never forgets about you. It's incredible to me that to this very day, Mamaw (aka my grandma, aka my mom's mom) still sends me handwritten letters. It isn't once in a blue moon. It's a good twice or more per month.
She has been doing this as long as I can remember, certainly since college began 14 years ago and probably earlier. Mamaw fights through arthritis and shaky hands, and she is extremely self-aware in her letters, apologetic for words that don't look quite right or the fact it has taken two or three days to piece together enough content sufficient to place in the mail. She is unafraid to admit loneliness after the passing of my grandfather this past November.
I love how she observes the world. A city girl who spent most of her life in the country, Mamaw is acutely aware of how the weather changes from day to day and shares as rain turns to ice turns eventually to mud puddles.
She is deeply empathetic. Her letters are filled with musings about what our boys must be doing and how they must be admiring Phoebe. She includes little dialogues with sayings she expects the boys are uttering or even the dog or the cat, on occasion.
More than anything, Mamaw's letters are saturated with love. She always reminds me that she thinks about us every day and wonders what we are up to. Her concern is always on others and rarely on self.
In a world where technology leaves us feeling as if we're treading water, Mamaw's snail-mail letters are a calming anchor. They remind me that no matter what each day brings, or how many expectations I've failed to meet, at least one person is cheering me on in middle Tennessee far removed from Facebook, Netflix and Snapchat.
You will never in a million years keep up with all of the Facebook threads, Twitter retweets, sub-Reddits and Snaps to satisfy your desire for meaningful relationships.
Mute your phone. Hide your tablet. Smash your TV. Close your laptop.
Write your Mamaw.
She has been doing this as long as I can remember, certainly since college began 14 years ago and probably earlier. Mamaw fights through arthritis and shaky hands, and she is extremely self-aware in her letters, apologetic for words that don't look quite right or the fact it has taken two or three days to piece together enough content sufficient to place in the mail. She is unafraid to admit loneliness after the passing of my grandfather this past November.
I love how she observes the world. A city girl who spent most of her life in the country, Mamaw is acutely aware of how the weather changes from day to day and shares as rain turns to ice turns eventually to mud puddles.
She is deeply empathetic. Her letters are filled with musings about what our boys must be doing and how they must be admiring Phoebe. She includes little dialogues with sayings she expects the boys are uttering or even the dog or the cat, on occasion.
More than anything, Mamaw's letters are saturated with love. She always reminds me that she thinks about us every day and wonders what we are up to. Her concern is always on others and rarely on self.
In a world where technology leaves us feeling as if we're treading water, Mamaw's snail-mail letters are a calming anchor. They remind me that no matter what each day brings, or how many expectations I've failed to meet, at least one person is cheering me on in middle Tennessee far removed from Facebook, Netflix and Snapchat.
You will never in a million years keep up with all of the Facebook threads, Twitter retweets, sub-Reddits and Snaps to satisfy your desire for meaningful relationships.
Mute your phone. Hide your tablet. Smash your TV. Close your laptop.
Write your Mamaw.
Comments
our emotions, our concerns and our daily lives in these letters. I am a Yankee and she is a Southerner and two women could not be more different than the two of us, but we consider one another as " best friends." We are both 82 now and exchange weekly letters faithfully.
Once in a while, we phone ,but those letters are what brighten our days. Hand written letters are becoming history in this busy high tech world and that is a sincere loss. Having a relationship with an older person adds much to one's knowledge , not only about themselves, but it helps a younger person understand that the world they live in today is not the world that their children will inhabit .