I have loved writing for as long s I can remember. I wrote silly poems as a kid, kept journals as a teenager, and I have been pen palling my entire adult life. I relished the papers I wrote in school from the young author books written and illustrated in grade school to the essays in high school to the I-search papers in college.
I think it’s safe to say my parents love writing just as much as I do, and that if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t take so much pride in the craft. My mom has journaled, blogged, and has conquered mountains of scholarly work, and my dad has been writing scripts and things for years, though he says his favorite thing to write are one-liners and finding ways to string ’em together. My parents may be separated, but they certainly are united when it comes to writing and they’re both always encouraging me to do it, too. My mom has been my proofreader and a bit of a creative consultant, and my dad is constantly sending me postcards, he has even sent me stamps recently.
On April 12th I received my most recent postcard contribution from my father:
I was so overwhelmed I was practically in tears. I knew he would be sending me postcards my late grandmother (AKA Golden Granny) collected along with the ones he found on his trip from North Hollywood to Seattle, but I had no idea there would be so many- 50 easily. In addition to the scenic views of Japan and paintings from Switzerland, there were postcards from Washington, the state where I was born and that I visited multiple times as an adolescent. The view of the Space Needle reminded me of the few times I got to go there with my brother, dad, and Golden Granny, and when I saw Mt. Rainier my head flooded with memories of her constantly looking at it from the window as if it belonged to her. These postcards of hers made me miss her terribly, and they made me wish I would have written her more often than I did.
My writing may be different from my dad’s, just like his was different from his mom’s, but to know it’s something we all share(d) is very special to me.
Also special: the package I received from my mom who resides in Taiwan during the school year. I knew to anticipate some postcards and a few notebooks, but I wasn’t expecting all this:
Let’s see, there are 20 postcards, 8 notebooks, 4 packages of lined stationery, an additional package of paper, 2 pencil cases, an envelope thing, and a little cow charm that now resides on my keys.
Do I intend to personally use it all? No. Do I still appreciate every single thing? You bet! I intend to use the stationery myself, enclose the Taiwan-shaped postcards in my pen pals’ letters, and use the pencil cases and whatever notebooks I don’t fill out for Nicole as prizes when rounds of SK trivia resume. Thank you, Bessie!
I don’t know whether it was nature or nurture that destined me to become a writer, chances are it was and is both; all I know is that I love my parents for their encouragement in every shape and form.
Sincerely, Kate ~!~