Over the years, I’ve written for different purposes: to serve as a record of my youth and my adventures after leaving home for a life abroad, and to express myself. Writing emails is another activity I enjoy filling my time with. Other than short, nonsensical comments and likes on my friends’ Facebook posts, I’ve always believed that 1:1 emails is the best way for me to connect with those who are far away.
The biggest reward I have received in return is that, despite my distance from almost everyone I care for who are similarly scattered across the globe, I have been able to maintain relationships I hold dear, even if it’s just an email every few years. These correspondences help share our lives with one another, the challenges we face adapting to adulthood, the questions we continue to raise on whether or not we are on the right track, our fears, our insecurities. This authenticity is not found through Facebook posts of birthdays and weddings and vacations. There is nothing wrong with Facebook posts. I too, spend an embarrassing amount of time scrolling down the feed several times a day, taking pleasure in the joy of my friends’ lives that I physically am not a part of anymore.
But it is in these personal emails where precious time is taken from our everyday to-do-lists that allow us to be friends again. There are only so many “remember when we used to…” stories that are repeated so frequently until a point where everyone at the table stops short, and the uncomfortable silence seeps in — a stark reminder that we were friends 10 years ago, but we haven’t been friends since. Continue reading