Postcards and the art of handwriting

As small as my living space may be, with as limited dresser space as I have, I devote a whole drawer to my stationary. I have cards for every occasion with more blank sets then I literally have space for. Buying a new book of stamps is so exciting with all the different designs.

Also, everywhere I go, I send a postcard.

My high school bestie and I still send postcards from absolutely everywhere we visit, not to mention my family does the same. A week home for spring break? Postcard. Weekend excursion at the beach? Postcard. Family vacation in Canada? A honeymoon on Maui? Postcard from every town, attraction and souvenir shop, they have no limitations.

There’s something so personal about snail mail and taking time to write a note. And the excitement of getting a postcard from some far-off place adds to the allure. Because quite frankly, you slowly collect the world in your photo box, as you can only get an Eiffel Tower postcard in Paris.

I have a dozen.

My postcard collection is well over 100 and counting. People memorize my address and I memorize theirs. I grew up with a traveling dad (oh, that’s where I get it from), so growing up I’d always follow his travels through daily mail arrivals with a small snapshot of where he is today. The best was when dad arrived home before his postcards.

Often, I’d send him letters to his hotels.

It’s the circle of life. Or the circulation of the mail room.

Fin.