As a child, the clatter of the letterbox was pure magic—full of possibility. I’d race to the door, heart fluttering, hoping this time there might be something just for me.
Usually, it was bills or dull-looking work journals for my parents. I’d groan, disappointed, unless it was my birthday. I remember complaining that I never got any letters and my mum saying gently, “Well, if you want to get letters, perhaps you should write some.”
At the time, I struggled with reading, writing, and spelling, so the idea didn’t exactly fill me with joy.
But one magical morning, something changed
There it was: an envelope. Addressed to me. Only to me.
The thrill I felt was immense.
It was a letter from my Grandad, who lived about 70 miles away. I carefully opened the small envelope and pulled out a thin sheet of paper, typed on a typewriter. It ended with a wobbly stick drawing of their sausage dog, Poppet, and Grandad’s scrawly signature.
What made it even more special was knowing my Grandfather also found literacy difficult. That letter—simple, funny, typed with care—felt like a real treasure. I knew I had to write back.
And I did.
One letter became many. We struck up a regular correspondence that lasted into my adulthood and for the rest of his life. He called me his “scribe.”
We’d share the little details of daily life. The weather, changing seasons, things we’d spotted in nature. Grandad was a wonderful storyteller. Looking back, I suspect some of his tales were, shall we say, embellished—as all good stories are.
I’m reminded of the quote by Mark Twain:
It was a different time—no emails, mobiles, or social media. We had rotary dial phones, “telephone chairs,” and a TV with just four channels and no remote. First-class stamps cost 17p and the shops were shut on Sundays.
We saw our grandparents several times a year, but our letters created a closeness I wouldn’t have wanted to miss.
Some research suggests that Millennials now send more cards than generations before them. Maybe it’s nostalgia. Maybe it’s a reaction to our online lives. Or maybe, deep down, we all still long for that feeling of being thought of, of being seen.
In terms of love languages, sending letters and cards could be seen as a gift, an act of service, quality time—and always, words of affirmation.
For me, letters have always meant connection
Over time, writing and sending cards became second nature. I’d send postcards from family holidays. As a young adult, letters and cards from home brought comfort while I adjusted to uni life. I even wrote to old school friends and—surprisingly—some of them wrote back!
In a fast-moving world, there’s something grounding about putting pen to paper. A scribbled “hello,” a little story, a note that says “I thought of you today.”
You never know what it might mean to someone.
Maybe that one little note will become the beginning of a lifelong conversation.
If reading this has inspired you to reach out to someone special, I’ve designed a range of thoughtful greeting cards to help you do just that. You can browse them in my Etsy shop — each one created to help you connect, uplift, and brighten someone’s day.
For more on the importance and power of words read my Changing the Narrative blog post.
Written by Morwenna Sanders