Letters of Love and Time

"Mom, nobody sends letters anymore," I said with a sigh. I was watching my

mother at her kitchen table, carefully writing a thank-you card for a small gift

a neighbor had given her. "You could just send a text. It takes five seconds."

She just smiled that patient smile of hers and said, "It's not the same, honey.

Taking the time to write means you truly care." I rolled my eyes internally, thinking how stuck

in the past she was. I saw her habit as inefficient and outdated.

Later that afternoon, I went to a local cafe to get some work done. At a corner table,

a young soldier in uniform was writing intently in a small notebook, completely focused.