Updated: Aug. 3, 2023
Originally Published: Aug. 19, 2015
Fifteen years on, it’s hard to believe that the shoebox filled with memories is long gone, likely lost during a move. What I’m left with are vivid memories of my teenage years spent crafting intricate notes that shaped my early romances and passionate friendships. Each note was a unique blend of colors, playful handwriting, and hearts dotted over the letter “i.” They were filled with poetry and humor, creating a tangible history of my youthful experiences.
Throughout my adolescence, I was never without a note in progress—whether it was tucked under my pillow, hidden inside my math book during class, or folded away in the pocket of my jeans. My father often reminisced about the power of those notes. I can’t help but think how fascinating it would be to revisit the stories my friends and I penned, capturing the ups and downs of our teenage dramas through those looping scripts of girls and the uneven scrawls of boys.
But now, I find myself wondering what my own children will miss out on without the charm of handwritten notes as they navigate their late childhood. How will they express their feelings through the quick exchanges of texts filled with one-liners and emojis?
When I think of romance in the digital age, my mind drifts to my relationship with my husband, who I’ve been with since the early 2000s. Our most recent exchange, a picture of a grub in our driveway pondering potential yard issues, hardly captures the essence of romance. I can assure you, no heartfelt note would ever be written about lawn pests. Even when we attempt to be sweet via text, our messages boil down to quick phrases like “luv u.”
In contrast, those handwritten notes allowed us to dig deep into our emotions and truly express ourselves in ways that technology simply can’t match. Sadly, this beautiful art form has diminished significantly over the years. The last major cultural nod to handwritten notes was in that classic Friends episode, “The One With the Jellyfish,” where Rachel penned an 18-page letter to Ross—front and back—laying out her conditions for taking him back. That moment encapsulated the note-writing experience perfectly, making me less nostalgic for my lost shoebox.
Like in that episode, I have received and given notes that have brought joy, heartache, and everything in between. In those moments, the written word conveyed emotions clearly—leaving no room for misinterpretation. But how does that happen in today’s world? I’m really not sure.
I recognize that love has found its way throughout history, even before written language came into play, and it will continue to thrive even if paper becomes obsolete. I’m just curious about how my kids will navigate this landscape, how they will find the nuances of emotion, and how they will communicate those feelings through their screens. It’s something I’m still figuring out myself, and I think I need to jot down my thoughts on a piece of loose-leaf.
For now, I’ll trust my children to discover their own paths while I send a quick text to my husband about the dry cleaning (wink emoji).
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