Searching Stories

Time in a Bottle by
25
(47 Stories)

Prompted By Snail Mail

/ Stories

Or, more accurately: Time captured in a batch of letters. After my mother passed away in 2007, my sister and I found a stash of letters tucked away in my mom’s old cedar hope chest, along with some of what we assumed was her honeymoon lingerie. What a find! I’d forgotten about the letters, but…
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Love Letters. by
25
(48 Stories)

Prompted By Snail Mail

/ Stories

I too have always loved snail mail letters: the inherently personal nature of them (especially handwriting), the tactile nature of them and the sheer anticipation of them.
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Postcards from a Secret Admirer by
25
(27 Stories)

Prompted By Snail Mail

/ Stories

I don’t remember how it started, or which one of us sent the first one,  but when we were in junior high my best friend Stephanie and I began sending each other picture postcards that we’d sign “Love from your Secret Admirer”. I know it sounds like a silly adolescent game – which of course…
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GHOSTS by
10
(17 Stories)

Prompted By Snail Mail

/ Stories

Or maybe that’s part of why I eventually “ghosted” him. I didn’t yet have the maturity, the empathy, the compassion that being involved with someone like him would have required in the long term.
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A Christmas Letter from an Old Friend by
50
(76 Stories)

Prompted By Snail Mail

/ Stories

It’s several pages of blue ink on real stationery that’s crammed full of things I want to know: the health of her husband, the latest project she is working on, what her three sons are doing, and cute anecdotes about her grandkids.
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Please Mr. Postman by
100
(151 Stories)

Prompted By Snail Mail

/ Stories

The Marvelettes had it right with “Please Mr. Postman.” Back in the pre-electronic days, waiting for the postman to come with the day’s mail was agonizing when you were hoping to hear from someone (“Is there a letter in your bag for me?”). If there was nothing it was such a letdown. (“So many days…
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Aerograms, a Pen Pal, and a War by
50
(55 Stories)

Prompted By Snail Mail

/ Stories

I mostly remember taking my fountain pen and writing tiny, neat lines to cram the most onto the aerogram sheet.
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Don’t You (Forget About Me) by
100
(151 Stories)

/ Stories

My high school was a small, selective public high school on the campus of Montclair State College that admitted 30 students in each grade, 15 boys and 15 girls. It went from seventh through twelfth grade, so you can imagine how well we got to know each other, such a small group spending six years…
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