I have always loved receiving letters. There's something wonderfully special about getting a little message in the mail that isn't a bill or coupon or advertisement that cheers me up like nothing else can. I suppose letters mean more nowadays that they're written so infrequently. When I lived in France I took great pleasure in maintaining correspondence with many dear friends Stateside and say with pride that I received over 40 pieces of mail (packages & little presents included) during my stint abroad. Pal mal! En tout cas I just had to share this email my lovely friend Michael sent me. I hadn't seen Michael in about two years and then I ran into him at one of my favorite coffee shops in Minneapolis one of the last days before I left to move to Montreal. We had an intense conversation about literature, Europe, travel, etc etc. and I realized how this long lost friend of mine and I were kindred spirits in many ways and I felt so very happy indeed that we had found each other again. When I moved to Montreal I promised to keep in touch and unfortunately only had his email...yesterday I finally fired off an email request for a mailing address (Michael is a special and particular person, one to whom I could not imagine writing emails, you'll see why in a moment) and this was the response that followed:
The autumn is a very lovely time, in fact, a very melancholy time and
Stillwater is always both; as such, as always, I have been lovely in the
most wistful, pensive way. I agree with you: Emails are nothing but
tomfoolery and business; if you recall, you and I were once friends on
Facebook, but a departure was necessary as pen and paper are my closest
friends, though not much was reciprocated, I mean most think it's an
inconvenience to write a letter. It really is one of my favorite things,
receiving them is even better.
Hope you are splendid.
Until a letter,