I spent several hours today pouring through the journals that she made for me. Hand made journals from old notebooks, that had her recipes, her favorite poems, quotes and stickers.

I also looked at the many letters I had sent her throughout my life. Letter from when I was a young girl in grade school, High School, College, my Fulbright years spent in Costa Rica, my Graduate School days in New York, and now Los Angeles. The letters trace my life, even though I was writing about how much I missed her.

In this day an age people will rather text than write letters, email rather than call, and chat in social network sites rather than visit one another. I am grateful to have spent so many quality years with her. I am particularly grateful that we shared such an extensive epistolary relationship. Thank you Abi Mama: my first yoga teacher, my first acting teacher, my first writing teacher.