Letters of Love Part 2: (Sweetheart)

I scrambled for a letter in my golden tin can.  A letter to share with my friends on this blog.  A letter to give my husband something to read during his long work day.  He did, after all, tell me it is the only thing that gets him through the day and the pressure was on.

And so over an hour ago I rifled through that tin can as I watched an episode of "The Locator" and pondered a song change on my blog playlist.  I was hitting a wall, and despite the wonderful sentiments in crinkled envelopes, I couldn't find one to share without spilling someone else's memories into my blog. 

So many of the letters were from my girlfriends.  Fresh out of high school then, and we were so young, naive and going through our first-ever heartbreaks.  Letters of love that confess desires to reunite with someone who was now in love with another.  Letters that let loose deep secrets about who-did-what-and-with-whom over spring break in 1999.  Crazy stories.  The kind you would almost love to forget about once you become a respectable adult.  But here they are.

In each of the letters I can hear the voices of my sisters and their personality shines through.  There's the sister that kept saying she was "going to send the care package before but couldn't find the customs forms".... "but took the day off work (from the post office)...." ....But waiting on so-and-so to add something to the parcel..." and so on.  This is the sister that, 10 years later, always has an excuse for everything. 

And then there's the sister with all the decorative colors on her stationary.  Not school paper.  Beautiful, ornate stationary.  She signs it in perfect script and with a sparkle pen.  There are stickers around her name, just as it would be if she were writing that letter today.

And finally there is the sister that keeps it short.  Just the facts, m'am.  It's generally dry and slightly down-trodden.  But that's just her.  That's why I love her for being her, even on paper.  "The kids have caught a nasty cold.... the car broke down.... " and so it goes, and so it goes....

But there is this yellow envelope.  It holds massive amounts of letters and printed emails.  The original contents are likely mixed into another large envelope by now.  But on the front of that envelope, in the most recognizable handwriting it reads "Cambria" and just under it, in parentheses, "Sweetheart".

The handwriting was my dad's.  There is no mistaking his tight cursive with all those loopty-loops.  Although I can't seem to find an actual letter that has his writing in it, as yet, I smile each time it lands on my lap.  My mother wrote the "letters" (or motherly commands, if I can be honest).  She must have feared for my life because she forbid me from traveling without her consent (which I did) and instructed me to read all travel warnings as I trekked along Spain, Portugal and Switzerland (which I did not).  But as they sat together and she put the final words to paper and sealed up this envelope, he had the wherewithal to pen my name, in tight, loopty-loop cursive my name and, just below it, in parentheses "Sweetheart".