Snail mail and tear smears

It’s a sign of the times when we have to remember what is was like to write letters. When I was growing up letter writing was part of the curriculum. There were rules to be followed, everything from the greeting to signing off was done in strict accordance to social conventions. Much of the rules have fallen by the wayside but I still can’t send an email without ending it with a ‘Yours sincerely…’ or a ‘Yours faithfully.’ ( as if the writer could be anything else but sincere and faithful) I don’t miss the restraints of letter writing but I do  miss the excitement of opening the letter box and finding a hand written envelope and wondering what news it carried. These days there are no surprise in letter boxes. Text messages, phone calls, twitter and  facebook  have robbed us of that joy.  In my adolescent years I blush to admit that I was a prolific writer of love letters. I can’t remember what sentiments were scrawled across the looseleaf pages, probably lots of ‘I love yous’,  but I do remember that I took pains to make an impression by sprinkling perfume in the envelope, or by including a pressed flower,  or ,  my all time favourite, forcing myself to cry so that the object of my desire would see my tear smudged words of endearment.  Recently I found such  a letter, clearly one that in a moment of rational judgement I had decided not to send. At the bottom of the last page the writing had smudged. It looked as if I had accidentally brushed my sleeve across the ink. It didn’t look romantic at all. In fact it looked as if I hadn’t taken enough care. That’s the problem with snail mail, it’s hard to get your real meaning across.