...I would find pen and paper and send you each a handwritten letter filled with news and recipes and gossip tidbits, the price of gasoline and assorted aches and pains causing sleeplessness, but you are unlikely to be at all sentimental about such things, nor save the envelope in a box for decades, nor even keep the cancelled postage stamp. At most, you might notice how my handwriting has deteriorated as my tremor has progressed, or how my spelling has gotten deplorable. You might wonder why my ability to punctuate decisively was lost as now I just ... or -- You might text each other to note I've begun ending my sentences with prepositions, but thank heaven so far not writing kwik or nite or lite. How quaint that I make those Xs and Os to hug and kiss my grandchildren like the olden days after the Civil War and before emoticons. Without a copy of the newspaper to clip, I can't send you hilarious police reports of idiot burglars or political cartoons, so the whole pen and paper business seems like too much trouble, which is all just a further indication that the nation and indeed the whole world is going straight to hell. I was going to write you to say you have chosen wonderful spouses and may you all make good decisions together when you put me in the home.
© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder