I used to write letters, inspired by a friend who liked to write too. I knew the exact sort of pen I liked to write letters with. I remember the aching and crimped fingers at the end of a long one, and the lazier calligraphy that would accompany that tiredness.
Now she doesn’t, and I haven’t for a long time.
Recently I came across a blog called “Letters of Note”, after coming across this post about a letter that a kamikaze pilot wrote to his children.
I read that letter, and I see a father’s love, and a conviction that, if passed on to his children, would not bode well for peace.