I collect notes, cards, postcards, scraps, scribbles, long-form letters. I keep them in a box that’s way past it’s heyday, one that’s been ripped apart because of the many times it’s been opened and its contents read over and over and over again. I love doing that because it transports me to another time and place.
And then, there are notes that come out of the blue. In unexpected modern ways:
A rough day at work, not a spare minute to catch my breath, the pager beeps loudly and the tasks are not getting done. All of that is suddenly interrupted by a familiar vibration in my gown pocket, my phone notifying me of a Whatsapp message.
I am sure you will be a great mom and wife and queen to our home.
And once again, I am transported. That’s all it takes.