On Fridays a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them.

Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. THIS WEEK Link back HERE and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Thems the rules!

OK, are you ready?
The topic for today is:




My grandmother, Dorothy Cole, is on the baby being held by her father, my great-grandfather.

I was never very good at sending mail. I’m pretty sure I still have several birthday cards tucked away on my shelves bought for certain people but never sent.

But of course, I love getting mail! Good mail, not junk mail or bills and the like.

The best bit of mail I received every year for quite a while growing up were my birthday letters from my Grandma.

She would take the time to hand write a letter to each of her grandchildren for many years on their birthday. And these weren’t just letters about what she was up to that week, these were precious letters filled with memories of what she or my grandpa’s life was like when they were our same age.

I heard all about living in Northern BC, about throwing dough out to feed chickens, about taking a boat to England and living there for a year, about all the handsome young soldiers who were stationed in her town and all about my grandma starting her own family and the mischief they got into and so forth.

These letters, though difficult at times to decipher with her famous shorthand and abbreviations, became a treasured gift every year.

I hope in this digital age, I can find a way to send special mementos and memories to my family.