Love Letters

Chances are, if you’ve given me a hand-written note, a card, or anything with your own words on it, I still have it. In fact, I have every card I’ve been given since second grade— Christmas, birthdays, even Easter, and everything in between— I have them all stored away together in a specific spot. From time to time, I read through them to remind myself of the people I am so grateful for. They mean more to me than any gift I’ve been given, and truthfully, I have a complex with receiving gifts, which is probably why I’m not the best at giving them.

I’ve been asked the once-in-a-blue-moon question of, “If you could only save one thing in a house fire, what would it be?” Every time, I think of my letters. I would let all my clothes burn, shoes disintegrate, and decorations turn to ash, if it meant I could save my letters. Contemplating the risk of some ~slightly~ burned skin goes to show how much I value them.

Second grade is a really young age to decide you should start hoarding all your cards in one place. I didn’t just wake up one day and think, “Today’s the day I start saving hand-written notes.” It all started because my mom would write me a note on a piece of paper and leave it in my lunchbox when I was in elementary school. Not only would I enjoy seeing what she packed me for lunch, but I also loved the surprise of finding the note tucked under my sandwich or carrots and reading what each one would say.

I kept every last one. After reading each one, I would put them all in the little pocket at the front of my lunchbox. I remember thinking, “One day, I’ll be glad I saved these,” and sixteen years later, I can say I was right.

My fascination with words started the first time I could ever read a chapter book from start to finish, which for me, was Dick and Jane. It was a struggle to pronounce each word and then understand what every sentence actually meant, but for some reason, I loved the challenge. The sense of accomplishment I felt from finishing Dick and Jane was so great that I can still clearly remember where I was, lying on my belly on the floor in my pink childhood bedroom right before bed, when I finished the book.

From then on, every time someone has handed me something with their words on it, I’ve felt a need to protect it, hold onto it, cherish it.

Why, you may ask? It takes time to write a hand-written note. It’s also permanent and intentional. It usually means more to me than a verbal exchange because it’s thought-out. Even if I just get a Christmas card from a relative with nothing but their signature on it, that card was still picked out for me. Amongst all the other cards out there, that one was chosen by them for me.

When I occasionally go through my letters, I realize how much has changed. A lot of the people who have written me cards or letters are no longer in my life, but I still love those ones all the same. I see them as little timestamps from periods of my life when I built myself with the help of those around me. They’re reminders that I’m not a construction of just who’s in my life at this current moment. I’m an empire made by the people who were there during every point of my journey. It is humbling to read my memories— to hold the exact piece of paper that someone took time to write on and realize that even if that note took thirty seconds to write, I was present in their mind. I took up some of their time, and time is something we can never get back.

When we stop for a second and look at how much gratitude we are surrounded by, we grow in that gratitude. People don’t just have to give you a gift or tell you, “I’m so thankful for you.” People show their love by writing notes packed away in your lunchbox or a Christmas card with their name on it. It is so easy for us to forget how many hands have helped in the creation of who we are, which is why I save each letter and hand-written note. I am not just Taylor Gilliatt. I am every person who took even thirty seconds of their time— of their life— to place a brick on the foundation of the person I am. That, in my opinion, is the most gracious thing ever. We are but a collection of those who have touched us in some way or another.

If we root our gratitude for other people in the smallest things they do for us, everything else is that much more appreciated. We are so caught up in getting a diamond necklace for Valentine’s Day, flowers on our birthday, and the latest iPhone for Christmas, that we lose track of how meaningful people’s words are. (Let it be known that receiving material gifts is not a sin. We all appreciate and love presents, some more than others, but the thought still counts.) It may cost $0 to write down how you feel or what you’re grateful for about another person or even something funny on a card, but it shows you care.

If you ever need help writing a card or putting your thoughts into words, feel free to reach out to me. I live for that stuff, and I would be happy to help. I’ve dabbled with the idea of branching out and offering my services to write wedding vows, speeches, and even eulogies, and as morbid as that may seem, there are certain times when individual messages are really personalized gratitude packages. It can be hard to convey what you really want to say, but that’s where I think I shine.

Before I end off, I have one small ask of you. Send someone you love a note, card, letter, or even a text message. It can be short. It can be straight to the point. It doesn’t matter. I can assure you, it will make their day... maybe they’ll even keep it for sixteen years and counting.