I sometimes think about what it meant to love someone, to wait for someone at a time when the only means of communication was a hand written letter delivered by horse, boat, or plane. Soldiers received letters from women who waited two years for their return. While they surely had doubts, it was perhaps the speed of their communication which kept their fears at bay. They had no choice but to remain steadfast to the memory of an image, a scent, the sound of a voice. Their faith was not challenged by text messages or email which work to undermine long-term dedication.

Sometimes I wish the incredible words we share sat deeper inside of us, at a place lower, more solid, more secure than the anxiety which erodes them. This modern speed of communication is an accelerator for what eats at us daily. The technology we use to transmit how we feel seems to not give us confidence, rather it amplifies our sense and fear of being alone.

We have shared ample poetry and song and love letters to last a lifetime. And yet, we fail, sometimes, to feel love.