Handwritten

“The beauty and nobility, the august mission and destiny, of human handwriting.”

– George Bernard Shaw, Pygmalion

Have you ever stumbled upon a handwritten something from someone you love who has died? A shopping list, a scrap once used as a bookmark, an envelope? Perhaps it had little to no meaning when written. But once found, doesn’t it feel like an immortalized piece of them?

My mother has the most perfect cursive handwriting I’ve ever seen–so perfect that forging it is nigh unto impossible. It is loopy and lovely, and so distinctive. When Mom writes, she takes her time about it. It’s beautiful.

I have a mountain of handwritten things from Mom. She’s the queen of cards–thoughtfully selected for my birthday, Christmas, Easter, autumn, or just a regular day. Each is graced with her thoughts of support and love, all in the meticulous cursive of a trained elementary school teacher.

My handwriting is not beautiful like hers; it’s more utilitarian, rushed. It’s a bit unfortunate that I didn’t pick up her style. I did adopt the practice, though, of hand writing cards and letters.

I can’t honestly say what it means to the people I write to. I hope that these little pieces of myself signal to the recipients what Mom’s writings signal to me–love. You matter. I have taken time to deliberate and consider words for you. I have selected pen and paper to put the words down on. You matter. The words come from me, and they are for you.

Thank you for teaching me this habit, Mom. Thank you for writing to me. I’ll be round with your Mother’s Day card soon.

**Postscript: Whilst researching for this post, I discovered something truly wonderful–The Handwritten Letter Appreciation Society, located in Dorset, UK. And its manifesto? Just delightful.**