One of my amazing sisters sent me a letter in the mail the other day. It absolutely made my day. I don’t think there’s anything I like better than getting mail of any kind — snail mail, e-mail, a Facebook message, a text message. The fact that one of my darling sisters took the time to write me a little letter made it even better.
I wrote her back immediately, of course. I’ve been missing my sisters pretty bad this summer, and it really made me happy to hear from one of them. And it totally makes sense that this particular sister would send a letter instead of an e-mail or something; she’s pretty awesome like that. It also gave me a perfect occasion to use up some of that old Lisa Frank stationery I have hanging out in my desk at my parents’ house. That’ll bring you back to 1993. (PS: The new Lisa Frank stuff is not nearly as awesome as what we had in the 1990s. What gives, Lisa?)
Anyway, getting her letter made me think about my best friend. My best friend and I have known each other since we were five, almost six; in the almost sixteen years that she and I have known each other, she and I only lived in the same place for five-ish years. Because we’re older and more technologically advanced, a big part of our communication revolves around Facebook and MySpace and phone calls (although I haven’t called her in a looong time. I’m terrible.), when we were little, we used to write each other letters. I still have a bunch of them, and they’re funny to read now. I’m pretty impressed with how much we’ve grown up; it kind of doesn’t seem real.
The letter also made me realize that if there were such a thing as a sister or a friend lottery, I have for sure hit the jackpot, and I am really the luckiest girl in the entire world.
