Anatomy of a letter.

This week, seemingly unprompted, my friend sent me a letter, for no particular reason other than the fact that they wanted to, and they could. I haven't gotten a letter since I was 9 and even then it was a novelty, so it was an incredibly sweet thing to receive one now. Besides the letter itself was a pack of stickers, a recipe for cheesecake, and most beloved; a drawing depicting the two-headed calf from Laura Gilpin's poem. I won’t speak too much on the letter too much, it’s a private thing that contains too much fondness in my heart to ever share or speak freely about.

Now the question is how does one store a letter? I could place it between the pages of a book, or in a box of other letters perfectly intact for me to re-read and adore at any time, or I could separate them. How does one go about separating a letter? Does the recipe go into my recipe book or I could copy it in + any notes left with it, is the stamp, so carefully chosen by a stamp collector no less (an orange and the Australian Forest) stay on the brown paper envelope or do I take them off and save them elsewhere? It's an annoyingly basic question but when someone curates a letter for you the idea of pulling it apart is as frustrating as the thought of just letting it sit wherever we let it sit.

Do I dare touch it at all? Or is that a dissection, How many times can I separate till it loses itself? Like a mortician examining a body taking rib bone and brain apart, how long is it a person and not just a body? The stickers must be removed, that’s a given. Should I write down the original contents of the letter, as if keeping historical records for a future me that probably won’t remember its particulars?

If I’m crazy enough to carry on with my human body metaphor, is the opposite applicable? If I put parts of letters everywhere, they become part of everything rather than sitting in one desk drawer forever. Is it better to put the recipe on the fridge? Am I Garrett Jacob Hobbs, or a Patrick Bateman obsessed with lettering and tasteful thickness of the letter? Have I put far too many question marks in this?

Receiving the letter reminded me why I loved letters, perfectly curated art exhibitions and library just for you, every word, every sticker and drawing made with you in mind, when done right captures the adoration one human can feel for another, all with an address on the back and front, sealed between your home and mine. I'm writing this before I have even written my friend back, which is either a testament to what a poor friend I am or to the fact that I’m going to see her tomorrow.

my love letter to you, forever yours, Chanda.

(p.s please tell me how I went! it’s scary putting my writing out there so some early criticism will save me)

Some extra things to share:

vincent van gogh’s letters, which as lovely as his art

Letter 03/14/1882 - by Vincent van Gogh “I am decidedly no landscape painter. When I make landscapes there will always be something figurative in them.”

American cartoonist and illustrator Alfred Joseph Frueh to his wife Giuliette Fanciulli, sent on 10 January 1913