Handwritten

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Handwritten.”

The last thing I hand wrote was a note of congratulations to a family member who became engaged recently.

Handwriting, any handwriting, mine or other’s, reminds me of my mother’s handwriting.  She used a Parker fountain pen with turquoise ink and wrote in cursive writing.  She wrote to me every week while I was at boarding school.  If she hadn’t personally addressed each envelope I would have known they were from her because they always smelled of her perfume and the contents crinkled, she wrote on onion skin writing paper.

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Twelve months ago I participated in an on-line digital journaling challenge that forever changed how I record events each day.  Previously I wrote every day in a journal which I embellished in many ways: washy tape, stickers, cinema tickets glued in and mind-mapping lines to highlight favourite parts.  I miss writing at day’s end, there is a therapeutic element that tapping at a keyboard does not have.  Happily I have found a balance between the two and enjoy both the written experience and the speed of digital.

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