To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart. (Phyllis Theroux)

The Macroday topic for today is "stationery." I love stationery. I collect reams and reams of it. One of the drawers in my filing cabinet is filled with sheets of writing paper; a second drawer is nothing but various sizes and colors of envelopes. I enjoy taking a plain page and turning it into a thing of beauty with rubber stamps and colored inks.

Even better than stationery are letters. Handwritten, personal messages that are sent with love and postage, evidence that somebody cared enough to provide a permanent record of their thoughts of you. Even a letter that's been spell-checked and printed out can provide a thrill when discovered in your snailmailbox.

Don't get me wrong; I'm as much, if not more, of a technophile as the next person. I can't survive without checking my email several times a day. AIM stays open on my desktop whenever I'm online (even if I sometimes resort to the invisibility feature) so that I can IM with my family and friends. I find it much easier to type out what I want to say; my keyboard has an easier time keeping up with my thoughts than my pen and arthritic fingers.

But I love letters. I savor the few that arrive from my daughter, reading and re-reading each as the treasures that they are. I carried the note from my friend Carol for days, and it brought a smile to my face each time I caught sight of the card when I opened my purse. I have a box of letters that have been sent to me over the years, and even though I keep vowing to declutter my life, the box remains.

You would think that feeling the way I do, I would be better at writing letters. Unfortunately, I'm basically lazy. I've had a letter in my purse that I started a week ago, with a promise in the first paragraph that I was going to finish it quickly and mail it right off. (Sorry, Cari. I promise I'll try to finish it and mail it tomorrow.) I have an envelope with photos to return to my cousin just as soon as I can write a note to go along with them. I have a beautiful card in my briefcase that I want to send to my grandmother. It's in the same file as the funny card for my best friend and the thank you note that is at least two weeks overdue.

So if I owe you a letter, I apologize. My heart is willing, but my hands are sore.