I spent my childhood in a small town. There were no libraries,
only comic book rentals that appeared here and there in the front yard of
residential houses. Well, there were basically a few make-shift shelves, with
very limited-edition comics (as in, there was only one per title), some series
were missing, and the conditions were mostly poor. However, visiting one was a
highlight of my day. My brothers and I painstakingly saved our pitiful lunch
money so that we had something to read.
We also spent a good chunk of our childhood without TV. I’m not
that ancient, I’m a ‘young’ Gen-Xer. I’m not fifty yet. However, we were behind
in terms of technology and facilities. On top of staying in a laidback town, we
were not well-to-do. Our education and knowledge were limited to what we
learned at school and our own practical exploration. If you are around my age
or older, we know that childhood experiences are precious. It’s a miracle that
my siblings and I didn’t break any bones or get kidnapped.
Anyway, another miracle: I had a pen pal. An international pen pal
from Austria, a country that I didn’t even know existed back then. If I
remember correctly, it was the effort of my language teacher who
encouraged us to write a letter. I believe they were some exchange or
something. There was no target, no one to address to yet, just a gesture, some
kind of friendship invitation. I don’t think my teacher even believed in it.
You see, my dad used to work in the jungle (literally), and whenever we sent
him letters, it would reach him 6 months later. Kids grew up fast like puppies;
6 months was a very significant delay for sharing stories but letters were the
best we could do when he was away. My dad had a very unique workplace, but that
is the story for another day.
So, besides the friendship exchange program being unlikely, the
long delay in letters, we were also horrible at English. We only had very basic
lessons, we had never used it, and it had only been around for a few years
since it became a subject. Imagine my surprise when I got a reply. I can still
picture everything in my head. It was a two-page letter filled to the brims
with neat handwriting on beautiful papers. Attached was a photo of a
beautiful girl wearing a lacey dress. She told stories about her and her
place far, far away that felt further than the moon because I could see the
moon! She chose to reply to my letter! I was delighted. We wrote back maybe two
or three times before I moved to a different school. Since the school was
handling logistics, I couldn’t continue doing so. I didn’t even know where the
post office was, and it served only domestic purposes.
I still think about the pen pal, and I still kept her letters and
pictures until they were lost when we moved to another state, together with all
my childhood pictures. Yep, I don’t have any childhood pictures with me. They
were not digitalized yet. We asked an uncle to keep it for us, but I don’t
think he cared, and they were gone.
Anyway, I remember all the blabbering above because most times, I
still feel grateful that just by pressing some buttons, you at the other end of
the world can read my gibberish. I can ask someone about their dogs or cats and
get a reply straightaway on Twitter. I can see the lives and journeys of others
and chat with everyone around the globe with no delay. It still amazes me. It’s
like having many pen pals!
While I love the more personal touch of the old days, and I’m
still reluctant to be reachable 24/7, I can’t imagine doing this without
everyone who has supported me so far. Things like sharing and communicating
with me about writing, helping me with feedback on my books, and just by being
here, enduring my ramblings. Thank you. You matter to me.
As I had mentioned before, I’m doing this writing thing alone. I
have mental support from my loved ones, but they are not readers, and they are
not involved in the process. So, you are all I have, and I’m glad that this one
doesn’t need 6 months to reach you.
Have a great day!
