letter in my pocket.

Hat

When I was a kid, we didn’t live very close to my grandma. So she would write to me. She has the spiritual gift of card-sending, and she regularly sent cards that talked about how the calves were doing and the weather they were having and what was growing in the garden. I still have some of them, and they are awesome. They were not exciting, but they were real and full of love.

We moved, and I wrote to my friends afterwards. Sometimes we got to call each other, but mostly we had letters back and forth. Things would be so different now, but back then, those letters were my lifelines. I wrote letters on into high school and college, pouring out my heart to friends who were far away.

I have played with letter-writing over the years: the To Whom It May Concern occasional series, my recent letter to my 16-year-old self, and last year’s series of letters for Atticus. I love epistolary novels and was raised on the epistles in the New Testament. While my adolescent scrawls were about every topic under the sun, something about letter-writing these days sparks my imagination in certain ways, gives me focus.

Which is why I have decided to celebrate NaBloPoMo by writing letters to Atticus again. A lot of people write letters to their babies every month, which is something that Dooce popularized, as far as I can tell. I wasn’t up for that idea. I needed more time to reflect, and also I instinctively resist doing things that other people have done. But I find that, a year after those 30 letters, I have some things I would like to say to Atticus about his life, about motherhood, about our choices for our family.

I am not sure I have written 30 total posts this year, so it will definitely be a challenge, but I am excited about the rhythm of writing every day for a month. What about you? Are you participating in NaBloPoMo? Do you enjoy writing letters? Do you write letters to your kid(s)?

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