A few days ago I pulled a couple of boxes down from our attic, looking for some pictures of old times with old friends. I found a few and was glad to see them. But even better was finding a stack of letters written 33 years ago.
The six months prior to our wedding Gail lived in Portsmouth, VA, her home town and I lived in Lynchburg, VA with my parents while wrapping up my last semester of college. She had finished her college work the previous semester and moved home to work; teaching in an elementary school and to making all the preparations for our wedding.
During those six months we wrote each other almost daily. It was in the dark ages before computers and email and when long distance phone calls were not cheap. Writing letters was still the most cost effective form of communication. It's pretty much a lost art now. First class postage was just 13 cents.
I had forgotten about all the letters. So the last couple of evenings I spent opening the envelopes back up and reading them again for the first time since 1977. It's amazing the details that get lost in the dust of time.
When you're married as long as we have been you should be more in love than ever before. I think we are. (She doesn't know that I've been sitting across the room from her while she works on her laptop, mostly just admiring her.) Certainly our love has matured with the years and through the experiences we've had, good and bad.
But I have to admit reading those old letters and reliving the magic of young love has brought more than one smile to my face. And the fact that she still loves me makes me continue to hold her in wonder; even more so now than then, I think.
Now, if I can muster the courage to open up and read the letters I wrote to her. She thought they were wonderful, and she told me so. But I'm afraid I probably sounded pretty goofy.