Part I

Now that it’s April, I can tell my March Modern Letter Project story.

When I got the email with the name & address, I was already halfway through a letter to that person.  But since I’d started it in February, it felt like cheating to count it as the March Letter.  So I sent that one off in a hurry, and waited for a response.

See, the name I got was none other than that of my number one faithful correspondent. Our letter-writing history now spans two decades.  I present to you the photo evidence:

Unfortunately undated, this birthday card dates back to a time before she knew how to spell my name, but after she had begun to learn her cursive letters.  IE, the St. Michael’s period.  (Fortunately, she can now write better poetry than that duck.)

What do you put in a letter to one of your oldest friends?  I thought I ought to come up with something unusual and spectacular, but it turns out that you just do your normal thing.

You take a break from all the other clutter, make a cup of coffee, and put pen to paper.  You send cross-country, and wait for a reply.

A letter, a sheaf of childhood poems, and a calling card.

This story would be much more thrilling if we’d lost touch and the MLP brought us back together, but I’m happy to report that such is not the case.  Letter-writing is alive and well, or so the thunk of letters into my mailbox tells me.

Now, I just need to reply to my March letter, and to the other dear friends who’ve helped balance out the junk mail.

Part II

Did you know that I’ve been blogging for over two years?  Neither did I, until I got a comment on a post from April 2005.  February 19, 2005, to be exact, was my starting date.   Rereading the old post, I felt like I could’ve written it yesterday.  Precisely yesterday, because it’s all about bridal chambers and they’re conflicting depictions in Orthodox hymns.  Perhaps not precisely pious and enlightening, but as I said earlier today, I tend to go more for “weird, but entertaining.”

But to venture ever so lightly into the pious arena…The very fact that I feel like I could’ve written that yesterday only makes me more aware of how each Lent, each feast, each service seems to overlap into one, well, timeless event.  As it ought.  See also, this time last year.  And last year’s annual comment on the time overlap.

I can’t quite believe it’s Holy Week, but somehow it is.  And for some reason I signed up for the midnight-1 am vigil slot.  Probably because I love being in the church at night, and because I’m often awake at that hour anyway.