I do this thing when I travel—or even when I visit a local museum’s gift shop—where I buy a handful of postcards BUT THEN NEVER WRITE AND MAIL THEM. I find that if I don’t send them within the first day or two of a trip, my motivation to do so plummets. I end up carting them home then tucking them away in my basket-o’-stationery where they gather dust. I know this about myself yet I still cannot resist the come hither look of that revolving rack of postcards.
Now here we are. We can’t travel. We can’t visit friends or extended family. We can’t shake hands or hug. We can’t catch up over lunch or coffee. We are glued to Zoom meetings where we’re connected yet disconnected (the current reality that was so well put in this article). We miss our 3D people. I miss my 3D, in-real-life people.
Because of this prudent and necessary isolation, my craving to connect with others is even stronger than my pandemic-induced craving for freshly baked cookies. That’s where my stash of postcards comes in. It’s time for me to grab that stack, a pen (gee…let me see if I can find one), and a sheet of postcard stamps, then write a few every day. The time investment is so small compared to the rewards.
“I’m thinking of you.”
“I wish you were here.”
How important it is to say these words. How important it is to read these words.
“I miss you.”
I do. I really do.