Receiving a personal note means a lot to me,
it documents that someone, somewhere
took the time to sit down, choose paper and pen,
or any other modern device,
and shared their thoughts.
Sometimes the messages
are sweet remembrances
that float up and touch my heart
light like a feather
sailing on strong winds.
Other times a note
can set off emotions
that make me wish
I hadn’t opened the letter,
had not picked up the mail.
Recently, I came across a letter my mother wrote to me
a year after my daughter was born.
She expressed her regret about our differences,
particularly my reluctance and stubbornness
to heed her advice.
It touched me deeply,
I softly cried as I pictured her
sitting at the red kitchen table,
thinking about our relationship
and the difficulties we have had
communicating with each other.
… and I am grateful to have a daughter
who has no qualms calling me on my shit,
who expresses her love for
or disenchantment with me.
She has the wide open heart and willingness
to communicate her feelings
by any means – mail, email, text,
always appreciated
and always reciprocated.
Hiking Poet 