Amidst the endless stories, tweets, meaningless IG scrolls, or impersonal Facebook posts—one person had the audacity to type “Hbd” on my wall in 2017—I’m determined to return to greeting cards via snail mail.
Blank cards are the best.
Sometimes I’ll fill them with thoughtful sentiments, observations, memories.
Or hurriedly scribble something generic (sorry/not sorry) just so Canada Post can get it there on time.
My handwriting often reveals the type of day I was having.
Nonetheless, cards connect me to friends, family, colleagues … I’m in my 30s and there’s a lot of grief.
I mourn the loss of relationships — those which didn’t pan out, ones I’ve neglected, others I’ve spent too much time cultivating, some with unfinished business.
Then there are friends who are new moms. Their priorities have changed and that’s life. I no longer get a birthday gift in the mail or a phone call but I still have their old cards.
Nostalgia aside, there’s the good kind of card:
-A friend who lost her mom to cancer mainly communicates via greeting cards. I keep each one.
-(When you leave a job, you promise co-workers you’ll stay in touch and rarely do). But I still hear from my favourite TV reporter who pens notes and Christmas cards with gems such as “the world needs more Kelly.”
-Well wishes from a thoughtful police officer who mailed a ‘good luck’ card after I left a reporting job.
-A dear university friend who lives 3,600 kms away and writes curse words alongside birthday wishes because a) I love the swears and b) her daughter “cannot read s–t yet.”
-My unofficial life coach/cheerleader/nutritionist who reminds me I’m a “bad b—h that nobody can f–k with.”
And the bad — take the guy who once wrote I was “the best thing to ever happen” to him in a birthday card, only to become abusive and pulverize my heart into mincemeat.
His words scarred my soul.
But the beautiful expressions from others, handwritten in cards, helped me heal.
My sister was right on time with a “love you, adore you, admire you” message in the mail when I was crying myself to sleep each night after said breakup.
They say “if you want to change the world, start by making your bed.”
I say “if you want to make someone feel loved, send a handwritten card.”