I spent the weekend with my two best girlfriends. Aren’t friends great? Mine are. We all live in different towns, so we don’t get to see each other as often as we might like. But every time the three of us hang out I’m reminded how magnificently funny those ladies are. Then I came back home and developed a less than stellar back spasm. It was not fun and I was cranky for a solid twenty four hours. So my husband probably wasn’t thrilled either. Sleeping was a challenge and although the tightness had abated some by Monday morning, I still spent the day propped up in bed. Three pillows arranged behind me just so, one on my lap to set my computer on, and one under my knees. It doesn’t make sense, but it was comfortable, sort of. I had moved past the point of pain and was in the restricted movement phase, but I was still cranky. I was uncomfortable, I had a crazy busy Monday as far as work was concerned, and I was behind on my writing. It was just an icky day and I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
And then I checked the mail.
In my mailbox, squeezed between the financial newspaper I never read, the bills to be paid, and the advertisements for appliances I don’t need, was a cheery pink envelope. My sister had sent me a letter. I immediately ditched the other mail and carefully sat down in the living room with my pink envelope.
I love writing letters just as much as I love receiving them. Luckily for me, my sis seems to feel the same way. So we’re occasional penpals. We still email, and talk on the phone, and skype, and all that modern stuff, but we supplement with honest-to-goodness letters when the mood strikes. There’s something about opening an envelope and holding a piece of paper in your hand that brings the person a little closer.
So I sat down to read my letter, and then I started laughing. My letter was a detailed description of a recent misadventure. I chuckled through five pages of descriptions and anecdotes, and then I started back at the beginning. Finally, I put the paper aside stood up and went back to my nest of pillows. My back still hurt, but my mood was drastically improved.
That’s the power of a letter and a laugh.