Love Letters
There’s something sacred about opening an old shoebox tucked deep in your closet…
…brushing off the dust…
…lifting the lid…
…and finding love letters, not from a lover, but from friends who once knew your soul like the back of their hands.
I did that recently.
And let me tell you, time may have aged the paper, but the love?
It still glows.
Reading them again?
It was like stepping into a warm bath of nostalgia
laughter echoing from sleepovers,
inside jokes only we’d understand,
doodles in the margins,
heart doodles,
exclamation points like fireworks,
and promises like, “We’ll be best friends forever, no matter what.”
And you know what?
We are.
Even if “forever” now looks different.
There’s one letter - that stopped me cold.
No name.
No signature.
Just raw, tender words that made my eyes sting.
Who wrote it?
I have no idea.
And maybe… that’s the point.
Sometimes, the most powerful love doesn’t need a name.
It just needs to be felt.
And 20 years later?
It still found me.
Still hugged me.
Let’s be real, me and my friends don’t get together like we used to.
Life happened.
Jobs. Kids. Family. New cities. New circles.
Some of us haven’t talked in years.
Some, we’ve lost touch with completely.
But here’s the beautiful, quiet truth,
Friendship doesn’t expire.
It hibernates.
It transforms.
It leaves breadcrumbs, like these letters so we can always find our way back to the warmth.
Reading them again didn’t make me sad it’s not college days anymore.
It made me grateful, that I was loved so fiercely, so freely.
