I don’t know about everyone else in my generation, but I was always excited to get a letter in the mail when I was a kid. It made me feel important. It made me happy that someone was thinking of me. There’s that rush when you read your name on the envelope and it feels a lot like power. Of course, that rush goes away as you get older and those letters start becoming utility bills and cell phone bills and reminders about your student loans. But even adults and those trying “to adult” can still experience those warm tingly feelings when receiving an unexpected postcard or letter from an old friend.

Because letters are important. They are wedding invitations from that couple you always shipped. They are Christmas cards from those family members you think don’t care, but really just don’t know how to show it. They are postcards from your friends on vacation who actually do wish you were there. Birthday cards to old friends who you're too afraid to call and say, “I miss you.”

Sure, we have texting. And I don’t underestimate how personal and deep people get with their conversations. My friends and I can often have really long, meaningful conversations through texting, but we often switch to calls when it’s really important. After all, it’s not always easy to tell someone’s tone or attitude through a phone screen (yes, even when you know the person like the back of your hand). And even calling is not enough sometimes. Because we need time to think before speaking and to properly articulate ourselves (lest we offend someone).

Even with those problems, I know that it has its merits. I’m very impatient and getting responses in a timely matter about important questions is perfect for me (except for those people who NEVER get back to you, that is). Texts can kind of be seen as mini-letters, or mini-emails. But either way, I don’t think they hold a candle to letters.

There’s something about reading someone’s words in their own handwriting. Because they’ve left a trace of themselves there; they’ve handed you a piece of their mind and their heart and you’re holding it in your hands. There’s nothing more personal than that. I like seeing the nuances of my best friend’s handwriting on her postcards from Boston. The places her letters are too close together because she was rushing or the way the ink smudged from the oil on her fingers. How the ink is darker in the places where she paused to think of the right words. Or where she crossed out because she got distracted.

Doesn't that seem cool? In an old-school way?

We’ve been writing letters to each other for 7 years and we’ve got to literally see each other grow up through our handwriting and our evolving narrative voices. Maybe that’s why we’re so close even though we only see each other a handful of times a year – we’ve learned each other so well that each postcard is like talking to each other face to face.

It's because letters are just visceral. The writer is taking a chance on you. Trusting you with something. And doesn't that feel nice? It's an honor.

So if I’ve ever written you one, it’s because I loved you. I don’t waste time writing to people I don’t care about. I think this holds true for most letter writers. We don’t share these pieces of ourselves just for kicks. We do it because we want you to know we care.

Letters are important. And if there’s someone out there who you thought of while reading this, please send them one.