August 27, 2011
By: Martha Jean Whitehead Killian
Going to the mail box used to be a joy when you could look forward to receiving a letter from a friend or a loved one. I experienced that feeling yesterday when I went to the mail box. In the middle of a handful of junk mail and bills was a hand written letter addressed to me, Martha Jean Killian. I recognized the hand writing immediately without looking at the return address. I have been receiving letters like this one since I was about ten years old. I am now sixty three, don’t tell anyone. The letter brought back memories of my childhood during the fifties when this seventeen year old girl took the time to write a young girl a letter.
I had only seen this young lady probably, about twenty times in my young life. Those times were at decorations and funerals. When distance keeps you apart, it is like a family reunion when someone dies. I didn’t understand that when I was ten.
This young lady helped bestow upon me the importance of friendship and family ties. I attribute the inheritance of this gift that was bestowed upon us to my mother, Lola Box and her mother Ada Box. I believe that we share the same closeness that our mothers shared as friends and cousins.
Many years have passed since those early days. Many decorations, funerals and births and now marriages have brought us together since the start of those first letters. And though, the letters and the pictures keep us together; the miles still keep us apart. The only thing that changed in our letters over the years is a different last name. Maybe the hand writing is not quite as steady and a few more wrinkles were added to our pictures along with a few more grandchildren. Although, we may not have much to say but, hello, thinking of you, we’re always looking forward to that next letter traveling from one mailbox to another.
