So ironic that I am working on a layout about a love note tradition in our family.
Every year for 18 years on the night before my son's birthday, I sat down and wrote him a letter about the past year. I talked about the highlights, the low points, the way he had changed during the year, funny moments, every thing I thought worth remembering. Then I took the letter and tucked it in an envelope along with a little some trinket from the year, like a Disney Pass or special photo, sealed it and stuck it in a box that I kept in my closet.
On his 18th birthday, I gave him the box of letters. He was stunned to know I had been doing this. We sat down and he opened and read the first letter with me there. Truthfully, I couldn't remember everything I wrote, but he started to cry and gave me a huge hug and told me it was the best gift ever. He told me he was going to read the letters over time so that he could savor each one and just a few weeks ago, he said he had finally read them all, that he had saved them for days when he needed to feel extra loved. He also said it is something he wants to do with his own children. He also wanted to know if I was still writing him letters and I said he would have to wait to find out.
