Friday, April 30, 2010
Writing. We do it all the time. Children spend a long time learning how to do it. Everyone has their own unique style. I love it.
For as long as I can remember, I have been in awe of my grandparents' handwriting. I have often tried to imagine them sitting at their wooden school desks being taught to write by a teacher, some 60 odd years ago, using chalk on a blackboard, being careful not to smudge their carefully curved letters. (These images always play through my mind in black & white.)
Then I wonder at how teaching children this simple art has changed, and I wish I knew how to write beautifully. When I read letters from my Grandmothers, I marvel at the way each letter is so beautifully constructed and long for the ability to make my letters just so.
Since becoming engaged, I have had a lovely number of letters come through my door from my Grandparents and women two generations above me, all in their own typography, yet all with that old familiar curl to their lettering.
With the usual marvelling at their writing has come an added emotional sentiment. I have been moved to read of the encouragement and excitement over my engagement from women who are seeing the next generation of their very own family, branching out, and creating a new family of their own. I am creating a family of my own in marrying John, and growing my own family. Each of our parents gain another son or daughter, in law, and we inherit new parents and all of the wondeful things that comes with family.
I am so very excited to be on this adventure.