I love handwriting. I love finding a hand-addressed envelope in my mailox (rare!) and guessing who sent it. I can pick out Amy's writing in a heartbeat. My Mom's familiar loops are recognized instantly. Oh, and my Gramma's beautiful script... I always wanted to write like her.
This summer, I recall a hand addressed envelope that made me laugh... addressed to me! I studied the print and made a guess that it might be Kim... but a glance at the postmark told me otherwise. My second round of scrutiny brought no answer, and I slid my finger under the corner of the flap in defeat. And then there was laughter. The handwriter? Me. I had forgotten that I had packed the card and envelope in Cam's backpack for camp... making him promise to send me one letter!
My scrapbooks are full of my handwritten stories and captions... because I know how much I treasure the swirls and loops and individulaity created by the ones I love. And how much more will I treasure those handwritten treasures when my loved ones are gone? My handwriting is a part of me... and though I can't seem to recognize it in the mail, I think that others just might. And so... while a typed paragraph may be neat and tidy, I truly believe the one written by your own hand is more beautiful. Even if you don't like your writing.
It seems like it was forever ago that I began the dinging room table project... and perhaps it is not-quite completed- but it is the most complete it might ever get! I do love it...
And I love it more that in a moment of brilliance I flipped up some of the postcards and preserved some of those treasured loops and swirls.