There is a breadth of ability between my grandson’s printing and mine. He’s in first grade and learning the shapes of letters. Mailed to “Grandma” and taped to my cabinet is a drawing of a very large, red McIntosh apple with the word “apple” artfully printed eighteen times around the edge. I, at sixty-eight, with an inherited hand tremor, experience untimely, small, muscular jerks that create aberrations in the true form of letters as I write. Yet, my grandson and I write from Love, making our effort at letters an art form of the heart.
My oldest daughter’s penmanship is worthy of entry in a competition. A letter from my daughter is an invitation to linger over sweepingly, beautiful curves decorating the envelope, making it hard to even consider putting it in the wastebasket.
My realization is, “When we see through our hearts, art comes in many forms, and words written with a feeling of “Love” are Love in the form of art—whether from a beginning writer, an aging one, or an artist of the highest accomplishment. Art may be found in everyone’s expression.