Doris had just sat down and picked up her sewing when the letterbox rattled. For a moment she was tempted to leave it. It wasn’t as easy to move around as it used to be, and the post wouldn’t go anywhere. It was probably all junk mail anyway.

After a moment though she sighed and pushed herself out of the chair. She made her way to the front door and bent down to pick up the small collection of envelopes on her mat. She rested one hand on the wall to balance herself and suppressed a wince as her knees protested the movement.

Two of the envelopes went, unopened, in the bin. One was placed on the small table by the telephone to deal with later. The fourth caught her attention and she looked at it more closely. It was addressed by hand, and the writing looked vaguely familiar. I should know that writing. Why can’t I remember? She picked up the letter-opener from the telephone table and took it with her to the chair by the window. Settling herself in comfortably, she carefully sliced open the letter.

The paper inside was also hand written; it had pictures of flowers on and was good quality. Someone had taken a lot of time over this. Curiosity getting the better of her, she was about to skip to the end and read the signature when she noticed how it was addressed.

Kara Avino.

She smiled in delight. There was only one person who would address her like that, in that language. Only one of her grandchildren that had inherited her fascination with languages and shown an interest in this one. Esperanto was a constructed language, easy to learn and known around the world. For a moment she drifted off into memories, memories of adventures from her younger years, Matt by her side as they met people from all over the globe.

She wondered why Lucy was writing to her.

Turning her attention to the letter, she began to read. Lucy, it seems, had been reading about communication in the modern world and how we never leave anything of ourselves behind anymore. She’d felt the need to write a letter. Well, Doris certainly wasn’t going to complain!

As she continued to read about her granddaughter’s life, she caught herself humming happily. We don’t often receive interesting letters these days, it is true, she thought. I’m glad…

And then ninjas burst into the room and snatched the letter from her. Shaking in a mixture of fright and anger she demanded the letter back. Unfortunately she had been reading in Esperanto and forgot to switch back to English, so the ninjas just looked at her in confusion and then jumped out of the open window behind her.

PS – This is a true story (well, kind of). The article about communication in the modern world is here. You may have noticed that I ran out of inspiration towards the end there and I’m a little short on time today to work through it properly!

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