the unlawful existence of threats to my softness
and how I manage to contain them.
I made a personal commitment to create the first six months of The September Letter before doing the scary thing and sharing my project with the world. I’ve created a tangible extension of The Huffington Note (my Substack column).
The other night, I ended the 6th installment of The September Letter snail mail series. The crisp white paper felt like my favorite month of the year. I didn’t expect anything different.
I’m a sucker for something I can hold in my hands. Something I can store. Something I can make memories with. Something I can remember. Something that isn’t digital. Something I can touch. See. Feel. And reopen when necessary.
While I’m familiar with the digital world, I’m an analog girl at my very core. I’m a memory keeper. I’m the girl who would rather spend hours flipping through a photo album than scrolling through an Instagram feed. I’m the girl who journals her thoughts instead of posting them online. I’m the girl with screentime limits on her cell. I’m the girl who can spend hours in her study, combing through the dictionary or other study material. I’m the girl who has a landline. I’m the girl who has a CD player that I toss an album in weekly.
So, a snail mail club felt right for me. It has for almost three years now. A small one. Just like my Substack. Just like my stories. But, straight to the point. No fluff. No storyline for the plot. Just monthly reminders of what certain days in September feel like.
That’s The September Letter. If you find yourself coming to The Huffington Note to see if I’ve uploaded new content or if I’ve written more on your favorite series here, then The September Letter is for you.
It’s also for you if:
You miss when people sent letters in the mail.
Need permission to pause monthly.
Enjoy poetry.
Love learning new facts.
Want to feel seen.
Care to color sometimes, or unscramble words, or search for words.
Need something to look forward to in the mail besides bills and bad news (more bills).
Journal often and can use the scraps.
Enjoy reading about girlhood.
theseptemberletter.com is live and the list to join is open until the 18th of each month.
a peek into your first letter...
The Unlawful Existence of Threats to my Softness
...
My right hand held my hair in place as my left hand twisted the black wrapper around it, when all of a sudden, I was presented with a question that mirrored my current reality.
What are you willing to do to contain the unlawful existence of threats to your softness?
My answer wasn’t hidden in Morse code. Neither was it underneath a pile of thoughts in my head. It wasn’t at the back of my brain. Neither was it buried by selflessness.
“Whatever it takes,” I whispered as I lowered my arms and admired my handiwork in the mirror.
The brief struggle with my hair to create the ponytail became symbolic of the struggle to become the woman I am today. I’m protective of her. She’s the most fragile version of me I’ve ever encountered, and I love her as if I’ve known her my entire life. The lengths I’m willing to go for her safety are no secret to anyone who knows us.
Details
The September Letter snail mail club list will open on the 1st of each month and close on the 18th, or when the list is full. Letters ship by the 28th of each month. Monthly, you will receive a piece of mail that reminds you of what September’s slowness feels, tastes, smells, or sounds like.
Included in each envelope is:
a personal letter inspired by a moment that felt so much like September that writing about it was the only way to capture its essence
a poem inspired by that moment
a piece of slowness (art, image shot on my camera, fact, piece of art, postcard, playlist, etc).
www.theseptemberletter.com
I’ll need to start a scrapbook to save my letters art pieces. I’ve felt like I missed out a lot with your works, but I’m starting to think I’ve arrived in Huffington at the right time 🤎🤎🤎