The art of the written word. When I hear that, I might think about poetry, the structure of a sentence, or the words an author puts in a particular order to convey an idea, a memory, or story.

I also think about the actual written word. Not typed on a keyboard, or phone screen, but written on paper, with pen or pencil, or even scrawled out in waxy blue crayon. (Did you just get an image in your mind from a memory, or a picture currently hanging on your refrigerator?)

I imagine someone sitting at a desk or table, pen and paper at the ready. One arm bent in front, hand steadying the paper. The other hand holding the pen, perhaps tapping their chin as they determine the best way to greet the intended recipient. As they lean over the table, pen introduced to paper, the sound of words flowing out of the pen, floats in the air in a scratchy symphony of thought. A pause now and again to review the words, process the next thought, and the chorus begins again.

Over romanticized? Perhaps. But there is something about seeing words written out on paper or page, that allows a connection to the person who wrote them. There is history in the ink, the words, and even the handwriting, that can be discovered, studied, and enjoyed. This is part of the reason I am grateful that I have a number of recipes in my aunt and grandmother’s handwriting. They were written out by an actual person, who cared to share something they enjoyed, or that I enjoyed and requested.

This is also one of the reasons I put together a journal of sorts, for my girls, and their cousins. This journal has copies of those handwritten recipes, a couple of my own that I wrote out, and some recipes and prayers written by their nana’s hand. I wanted them to know that connection, to know that they were thought of, prayed over, and cared for by her.

It isn’t an archival quality book, but it has those notes, recipes, and blank pages, so they can each add their own favorite recipes as they go forward. I hope they will utilize them, and maybe even pass them on or create new ones for their own children in the future.

Time will tell, and how will the story continue?