I had a pen pal in fifth grade. I wish I could say that we still write to each other. I would have a story worthy of the evening news. Truth be told, I don’t remember much of our penship, not even where she lived or how long we corresponded.
When attending college in Mexico in the seventies, I wrote a letter to my father. I found it among his things when he died. A keepsake for sure. He had written a letter to me that I responded to. I wish I still had it.
For awhile I lived in Okinawa, Japan. It was the eighties, before smart phones, computers and instant communication. I hand wrote letters on blue, tri-fold airmail paper. They took awhile to arrive stateside but the fifteen hour time difference made phone calls challenging.
In the time of Covid I have nurtured a few pen pal relationships. One is with a guy I met on our cruise to the Panama Canal a year ago. He and his wife hung out with us on board and we knew they would be good travel companions. Dan likes to write. He sends missives that are entertaining and detailed. He is a good storyteller and together we exchange our lives in lockdown.
Someday they will come to Mexico. Perhaps when we are all vaccinated, when Covid cases are manageable and when we can hug each other and go out. Won’t that be grand?
DOS TORTAS
the adventures of dos tortas 
Oh goodness, I hadn’t thought of my penpal in eons. I think it was about fifth or sixth grade and it was a girl in Japan. Thanks for stirring my brain up.
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Yeah. Writing is an art.
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Penpals? So last millennium! I had a couple at school, I seem to recall. We’ll all be able to hug soon, I’m sure. That light at the end of tunnel is flickering brighter!
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But I am last millennium 🤪😎😜
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