I pull the chair up to my desk and prepare to write another letter. She likes to receive letters and I like to send them.
I choose an appropriate stationery and just the right pen; this time a nice Pelikan fountain pen with dark green ink. I write, slowly and deliberately. I want to say the right things. Also, my penmanship is terrible. But it’s mine. I’m careful to finish before reaching the bottom of the page, so there’s still room to sign it.
“Love, Jack” it says.
I fold the page carefully and insert it into a matching envelope. I write her address on the envelope, even more carefully, as I want the post office to get it right. I affix the perfect stamp; something cute, but not too cute. Satisfied, I seal the envelope and walk it to the end of the driveway. I put the letter into the mailbox, leaning it against the side, just so. And finally, I flip up the little flag so the mailman knows there’s something waiting.
I walk contentedly back to the house and smile. It’s on its way.