Writing letters to Corinna was much different than speaking to her on the phone. I took note of a lot of things in my life that I don't always--small things to remember to put in every evening's letter, like the tea I made that afternoon (we are both tea people), things I've been writing about lately, how my tests and classes went, how my relationships were going, how my college stress was, etc. Normally when I talk to her on the phone, which happens maybe once or twice a week, I sort of tell her how that single day was and we talk about her life as well, of course, but I don't offer the same sense of daily life or important details (or receive it).
Including writing also allowed me to think about what parts of recent poems I should include and really realize how what is happening in my life relates directly to what I am writing and how I express things. Normally, I'm an avid diarist, but this past month, what with challenging myself to write daily poems and daily letters, I've put everything (in condensed and poeticized form) into other mediums. Looking back on it, it's kind of like when you smell something on the street and it suddenly reminds you of something in your childhood (the way your nursery smelled, your mother's perfume, etc.) because you can't recall exactly what was going on but you get in touch with your past self in a small way. I don't record things as explicitly as I do when I keep a diary, but in some ways it's more interesting that way.
The actual experience of letter-writing is one that is difficult but that I like. I enjoy handwriting and controlling things aesthetically but it can be frustrating. Also, forcing myself to do something every day isn't easy. Many days I do not want to do it, but I don't often regret it afterward, and I'm happy I've sent the letter. I think it's an important exercise in discipline, and I think Corinna appreciated it. For some reason, hearing about things days after they've happened is a strange but cool experience because the emotional intensity has since dimmed. Sometimes she calls me worried about something I mentioned in a week-old letter (how long it takes things to get to Chicago... actually ludicrous) and it's funny to see how little those things matter after just a few days.
I've included a picture of a postcard I sent, with a little drawing of this amazing museum attached. My camera has since been fixed--apologies for the blurry photo.
