This is the third year that our twins have laid their sleepy heads in Europe. That is, when they do lay them. Sometimes on our family chat they comment in what is early evening for us, and presumably much later for them. But they get to decide such things, and like many young people depend on a different energy stream than me. 

Last year I wrote to each of them a handful of times, with newsy notes, and little surprises that could be coaxed into an envelope. Although they are fluent in Spanish, French, and now Italian, my words were limited to English ones. The journey across the Atlantic is not a short one, so I had no illusion that the arrival would be prompt. If I had a time sensitive message, I used my phone rather than a stamp. Still it is sweet to see a white message in your mailbox, so I put pen to paper. 

It was a bit unsettling to ask Hope about it, and find that my epistles never arrived. Being earnest, I wrote more. But in the end, they all ended up back in Pennsylvania with the disappointing verdict of "undeliverable". As chance would have it, I was able to hand them to a friend who would see Aurelle in Spain, and included the letters for her sister. Maybe they would eventually arrive where they belonged. 

A few weeks later, the girls flew to see each other, and Hope was especially pleased to have a fistful of visible love to open. Although the details were stale, the affection was not. 

Sending our messages of devotion to one another can be dicey. Perhaps you offer gushy sentiments, when what your spouse would prefer is action. Sometimes a mother may hover over her adult child, but the devotion is lost in transit, being translated to a version of overbearing. 

I do not have an answer, it turns out. This year their addresses have changed again, and I will do my best to send well wishes wrapped in ink. Perhaps the heart of the matter is that I keep trying. 

Love, Lori