The Unwritten Letter

Skype, email, Facebook, texting, and phone calls, among other technology, has made keeping in touch with a deployed service member much easier. Somewhere in this mix of communication, a real handwritten letter has lost its luster.

Sure, it takes a week or two for a letter to get there via snail mail as opposed to the instantaneous email or phone call. There is a good possibility that by the time they receive it, some, if not all, of the news has already been shared.

But there is something different when it comes in a little envelope. 

There is the handwriting that is so well recognized, the slight smell of the individual that sent it, and the knowledge that it took the other individual out of their every day realm of technology to scribble down a few words in ink.

During my husband’s last deployment, access to technology was slim. In fact, we are on round three of deployments, and it was the first time we were ever able to Skype.

In the past, what we didn’t get to say across a computer screen came out of a pen every night to him. From time-to-time, I would receive a letter from him. Even though he was busy, he had taken a few moments and decided to spend it on me.

When I checked our mailbox and saw his handwriting on the envelope, I got butterflies in my stomach. I would take it home and set it on my nightstand. Right before I went to bed, I would read it, then slip it into the drawer with the others. On the nights in between new letters, I would open the drawer and pull out one that I had read at least a couple of times already.

Even long after the smell (even if it was the not-so-great sweaty deployment smell) had worn off, the words, his words, his handwriting, were still there. On the other end, he had done much of the same. Sometimes reading about good things from me helped him get through his missions.

It was something that brought a piece of home to him.

Now, each of those letters are tucked safely away in a box, waiting to once again be read someday. In 50 years, when we are gathered with our grandchildren, they won’t want to see the “unwritten letter” that was sent via email. They will want to see the letters that are in grandpa’s handwriting, the letters that brought a piece of each of us to the other, and often times, that little paper that helped us get through to the next day.

There is a lot to be said for something that weighs next to nothing, but can make so much difference to those on the receiving end.