The Epistolarian

I take great pleasure in very simple things. Today I sat underneath my bedroom window, on the floor with the light streaming in and the sun shining and though generally the sun and I are at odds, it was a late day sun and so brassy and orange and that color I always fall in love with. I wrote a letter to a friend and wondered why I don't write more letters. I mean, frankly in comparison to most people my age, I write and receive quite a few letters, but imagine writing them everyday. My hand gets too tired for that. But I do have this box full of correspondence that I've saved over the last five years or so and wow how beautiful a worn envelope feels. Sometimes I spread all the letters out in front of me, I flip through, I feel the paper and the ink, I look at the dates, at the signatures, I think I would give up everything I own for those letters. I would sell everything I own for the pages and pages of words written down just for me. Why is it gold is so popular?