Postcard From a Friend: A Story of Distance and Connection

There are certain things that feel almost outdated now, and because of that, they carry extra special weight.

Handwritten notes. Postcards sent without an urgency to arrive. Mail that isn’t asking for anything in return.

These gestures aren’t efficient. They take time. They require intention — choosing a card, finding a stamp, writing small enough to fit everything you want to say. And maybe that’s why they feel so meaningful when they arrive. They tell us someone slowed down long enough to think of us. And slowed down long enough to let us know they were thinking of us.

Distance has a way of changing friendships, but it doesn’t have to put emotional distance between them. Sometimes it simply reshapes how we show up for one another. A postcard becomes a stand-in for physical presence. A snapshot of a place, a moment, a thought that says: I’m here, you’re there, and you’re still part of my life.

In The Slow Life village, connection doesn’t rely on constant contact. It’s built through small, steady acts — messages sent without needing a reply right away, shared rituals that stretch across miles (kilometres…), the comfort of knowing someone will write back, just in their own time.

Receiving something tangible in the mail carries a different kind of joy. It’s held in your hands. It stays displayed on the fridge door. It becomes part of the decor of your home.

In The Slow Life village, friendship often travels this way — through postcards, notes, and quiet gestures that arrive exactly when they’re needed.

This story begins at a mailbox, on an ordinary day, with something bright tucked among the usual mail.

Settle in, and open a Postcard From a Friend.

🎧 💜 If you'd like to listen, instead of read - the narrated podcast version of “Postcard From a Friend” is available HERE 🎧

🕯 💜 I create MICRO-EXPERIENCES inspired by The Slow Life — these are short, gentle reading moments designed to help you slow down and rest in the village for as long as you like. They’re available to enjoy on screen or on paper, individually or in small bundles HERE 💌  

This story is called Postcard From a Friend and it’s about a touch of sparkle, a penpal, and the good company of a reading partner.

My mailbox wobbles a little as I open it, reminding me to tighten it later today - or another day. It will be an easy fix, which are my favourite kind. I reach in and pull out a small bundle of flyers. Amidst the muted colours, I notice a splash of vibrant turquoise. It’s a postcard, bright and cheerful, peeking out from the everyday correspondence. My heart blooms as I reach for it, running my fingers over the sparkle texture that’s been added to the card stock.

The front of it shines with a picture of a quaint coastal village, with colourful houses lined up along a rocky shore, a lighthouse standing tall in the background. It’s a place I don’t recognize, but it looks charming and serene. I turn it over, and a smile spreads across my face as I see the familiar handwriting. It’s from my dear friend who moved away last year.

The message begins with greetings of how it feels like forever since we’ve seen each other. She continues in her distinctive curly script, telling me how she’s been exploring this little seaside town with her partner and their dog. She describes the beauty of it, how the air smells like salt and adventure, and how friendly the locals are. “Wish you were here with me. Missing you always.” She finishes.

I trace the words with a smile, feeling not so much longing, but a warmth and appreciation that she’s thinking of me. We met not long ago, but formed a fast friendship. Our second time meeting felt like the millionth in the most comfortable ways. And this postcard, with its sunny image and heartfelt message, feels like a fun way to celebrate this new era of our easy relationship.

I head back inside, cradling the card like a precious artifact. My step feels even lighter with this unexpected arrival. I settle into my favorite armchair by the window, the one with the soft, worn-out cushions that have molded to my shape over the years. The postcard sits on my lap as I gaze out at my backyard patio, thinking about my friend and all the adventures she must be having. I’ve joined her on a few of them when I’m not off on other trips of my own. And she and I both agree that home is also filled with wonderful little happenings if you let them shine through.

Thirsty for a drink and some activity, I go to the kitchen in search of both. First, I make some space on the fridge door to pin up my postcard with a pretty magnet. Inspired by the sunny scene in the picture, I pour myself some iced tea - into a wine glass as always. And my activity will be to write back to my friend.

I’m about to turn to get my new stationery set when the spotlight of the sun lands on a postcard of my own village. Four images adorn the front showcasing two bakery’s beautiful storefronts, and an image each of their most popular treats. My friend and I never missed a week of visiting each of them at least once. With the front of it having some meaning for both of us, and knowing the back is blank, I decide to use it to write back to her.

I take my iced tea and writing things to sit out back under my patio umbrella. The words flow easily, and I keep my script small to fit as much love as I can into the limited space. I tell her about the new café that opened around the corner, with its cozy atmosphere and stunning artwork on the walls. I suggest that when she’s here next we could take our books there to silently read across from each other, as we love to do. I ask her where she’s off to next and wonder if it’s a place I might like to join in on.

I finish with best wishes to her and her partner and their fur baby, Eliza. “Lots of love, and write back soon,” I say - knowing that she will anyway.

One of life’s little pleasures is sticking the stamp onto a handwritten note. I go in right away, not wanting to wait to mail my reply. After all, the sooner she receives my postcard, the sooner I’ll get one from her in return.

I take the last sip of my drink, and gather up for the short walk to the post office. I could simply drop the note into my mailbox to be picked up tomorrow, but this way adds to the fun of having a pen pal. I can see her sifting through her mail and then smiling, sliding her thumb over the image of delicious pastries. The cupcakes look all the more delectable with the same sparkle texture that enhanced the turquoise waters now pinned upon my fridge.

I make my delivery and take the long way home. I want to peek in at the new cafe I’d told my friend about. Sitting on a Chesterfield under a wall of beautiful paintings, are two young friends. I can see that they chat intermittently between reading paragraphs of their books. Always with a book on hand for in waiting rooms, or times such as this, I go in for a peppermint tea and a muffin. I find a table for two by the window and silently tell my travelling pen pal that I’ll save the seat for her.

I read a few chapters of my book and finish my tea and muffin. On my way to the door, I see a colourful rotating display stand. It’s been freshly stocked with local postcards of all kinds - beautiful ones, funny ones, and cute ones too. I give them a gentle spin, scanning the options. Some are funny enough to make me cover my mouth, and I mirror the cute animal ones by tilting my head as they do. My friend will probably receive some of these over the next weeks and months, but I settle on a postcard that features this very cafe. It pictures couples smiling over coffee, folks enjoying the desserts at the outside tables, and one set of friends sipping silently while reading their books. “Perfect”, I whisper. I reach for another of the same card. One to send to my friend, and one to put on my fridge.

I look forward to the updates on her travels, and imagine our next meeting. I don’t really wonder where or when it will be. I just picture the laughter, the reading and the comfort we’ll share.

I wish you sweet dreams.