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.