Handwritten letters
I recently found a box of handwritten letters from long-forgotten friends.
With some, the pencil writing is so faded that it’s hard to read. The paper is creased, yellowed, and fragile in their original envelopes, often requiring care to unfold. The dated 32-cent postage stamps are covered with clumsy post office marks.
Some envelopes are decorated with different colors and illustrations, asking me to write back even before opening them. In one, each page has been folded into small, colorfully patterned origami shirts labeled in order of opening.
Handwritten letters like these take time and intention. Behind each one, there’s a friend choosing the pens to use, putting pressure on a table, sitting in a chair—alone with their thoughts, having a conversation that hasn’t happened yet.
There’s no AI to correct, no backspaces, no spellcheck to rely on. After dropping it in the mailbox, there’s no record of what was written—only hope and anticipation that they will hear back.
Why did they stop? Did I not respond? Did they?
All I know is that I had people in my life who cared enough to sit down and write to me—to want to keep the conversation going and to maintain a relationship over time and distance.
When I read through these heartfelt letters, I feel a foreign blend of melancholy, longing, and gratitude. Setsunai is one of the hardest words to translate in Japanese because it can’t be defined—only felt.
Digital communication, such as email, messaging, and social media, has given us the power to respond to others in seconds.
When used responsibly, AI can help minimize written miscommunication in the workplace (and clarify when to correctly use em dashes and semicolons).
To me, it will never replace the setsunai I found in that magical box of paper and words—the vulnerability of not knowing if you’ll ever hear back, the anticipation in between, and the excitement that comes when you do.
I’m curious—has anyone else had a similar experience?
Beyond Christmas cards and birthday wishes, are handwritten letters a lost form of communication?
Can they be replaced by something just as valuable, even in the workplace?
Will our children ever experience this kind of magic? Will cursive handwriting read as ancient hieroglyphics?
