There are some things we learn from books and there are things life teaches us. One can assume is that the longer you live the more you’ll learn. But, can you teach an old dog a new trick? I believe the answer is yes….we old dogs can learn new tricks….well, some of us.

With age comes wisdom, but sometimes age comes alone.

This piece, Love Letters, is about the trick of letting go. It’s a story of paper, ink, and fire, and how sometimes, burning what once defined us can be the clearest way to learn what endures.

LOVE LETTERS

For a period early on, I saved love letters. Stored in a shoe box under my bed these often passionate and sometimes painful reminders were filled with infatuation, intense love and excitement. Young love burns brightly….

Details of heartbreak that seemingly took forever to get over and even harder to move past.

Re-reading those letters taught me that the heart can love a lot of people, in a lot of different ways.

Handwritten messages stored in box are gifts of the heart from unforgotten loves. They bridge the distance between the adult self and the adolescent.

Some years ago, on a cold winter night beside a backyard fire, I brought that box of letters outside. Watching the flames flicker, it became clear that the words in those envelopes were only ever meant for my eyes.

One by one I read each letter, then I placed them into the fire, sending their love back into the universe.

As the smoke rose, I thought about how every ember carried a memory and with it tiny sparks of feeling scattered into the night sky.

I realized then, that what had once been paper and ink had already done its work engraining itself into me: it had taught me how to love, how to lose, and how to remember without clinging to the past. Memories don’t belong in a box, they come with us as we grow in age and wisdom.

That night, by the fire, I’d think this old dog learned a new trick and gained a bit wisdom.