Dear Aine Poem by Francie Lynch

Dear Aine:

You're going away today.
You mentioned that you'd have have plenty of alone time.
So, Aine, write me a letter. Tell me what your doing.
Not a text.
Not an e-mail.
Not a comment on an FB posting. Not a meme or a "like."
Write a letter... hand-written, addressed only to me.
I know you're wondering, "Why? " When you could just call. You'll see.

I remember the blue envelopes with the diagonal edging of stripes, blue and red, addressed to far off places like Shercock and Baillieborough, Coventry and Reading. I remember the smell of outside freshness that rose from the letters received.
We brought our grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins with us, for a while; but after many years, the letters stopped. I miss those blue envelopes with the edging.

So, Aine, write me a letter while you're away. You'll arrive at my house in two or three days. And I will smell all the details.

Love,
Granda

............................................................................................................................
"Granda, each word, each phrase, every sentence meant so much more. I kept seeing your... well not really seeing you, but feeling a real sense of you, like you were there, or here, with me. And then I folded the paper, so carefully, and slipped it into the envelope. I had to lick the flap. I didn't know where to put the stamp I bought for $1.00. It was beautiful."

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