As a child, I knew her handwriting
from shopping lists,
birthday and Christmas cards,
a note to the milkman –
but what a gift!
A sole written letter,
the only one she wrote to me,
tucked away in my old photo box.
Her voice echoes in words
painstakingly formed,
her giggle hides in each squiggle,
her eyes sparkle in each loop.
A reminder that she was more
than the shrunken form
in a hospital bed
the last time
I saw her.
Kim M. Russell, 4th July 2026
So poignant, Kim!
One of my grandfathers used to write letters to me. They were one run-on sentence in his phonetic English. I wish I still had them!
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Thank you, Merril!
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You’re welcome, Kim!
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