There is something so deeply and profoundly personal about a handwritten letter.
Long before text messages, emails, and quick comments on social media, people poured their hearts onto paper. They wrote of ordinary days and extraordinary hopes. They shared news, whispered dreams, confessed fears, and carried love across miles, months, and sometimes even years.
A letter could be a promise, or a confession, a lifeline, or part of a legacy.
The power of letters has been on my mind as I’ve worked on the Petticoats & Patriots series, especially with For Liberty and Love and Declaration of Love. Though the stories are set 250 years apart, they are connected by more than history. They are tied together by courage, devotion, sacrifice, and letters.
In For Liberty and Love, Lucy Carlson lives in Philadelphia during the summer of 1776, a time when every spoken word could carry danger and every written message might change a life. Secrets mattered. Loyalty mattered. Love mattered. For Lucy and Branch, words were not casual things. They held meaning, risk, longing, and hope.
I imagined what Lucy might write to Branch. What she would say to the man who had changed her life in the middle of such uncertain times? Or what Branch might write to Lucy. How he would put into words the ache of missing her, and the fragile hope of a future neither of them could yet see?
There is something that feels almost magical about a written letter, especially when we write from the heart, preserving what we might not say aloud.
Letters give our feelings a place to rest, and allow love to linger long after the last word is read.
That same emotional thread carries into Declaration of Love, the final book in the series. This time, the story unfolds in Holiday, Oregon, as America prepares to celebrate her 250th birthday. Kate Barton (a descendant of Lucy and Branch) arrives in town for what she believes will be a temporary stop for the summer.
As part of the celebration surrounding Declaration of Love, I’ve been creating a series of postcards from Holiday. Each one offers a little glimpse of the town, the story, and the heart of Kate’s journey.
Postcards are such small things. Just a picture on one side and a few lines on the other. But they can carry so much.
Postcards remind us that even the briefest message can create connection, like a simple note of “I’m thinking of you.” A few handwritten lines can bridge distance, spark memory, and let someone know they matter.
From Lucy’s letter in 1776 to Kate’s postcards in 2026, the heart of these stories is the same: love leaves traces, whether they are found in silver lockets or faded ink.
One of the things I love most about the Petticoats & Patriots series are the traces of love left behind with each story. The locket passes from one heroine to the next, but it carries more than metal and history. It carries memory, choices, and the courage of women who loved deeply, stood bravely, and left pieces of their hearts for the next generation to discover.
Letters do that, too.
They become little time capsules of emotion. They tell us who we were, what we cherished, what we feared, and who mattered most. They remind us that ordinary lives are filled with extraordinary moments of dreams, hope, and love.
I think that is why old letters are so precious.
In a world that moves so quickly, handwritten words feel especially meaningful because they ask us to slow down. To think. To choose each word with care. To leave behind something tangible, something that can become part of a legacy.
As America celebrates 250 years, I find myself thinking about all the letters that must have been written across those many generations. Letters from soldiers and sweethearts, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, friends and neighbors. Letters filled with longing, courage, worry, faith, humor, hope, and love.
Those words helped carry people through uncertain days. In many ways, the letters that remain still do.
So perhaps today is a good day to write a note. Send a card. Tuck a letter into the mail that offers encouragement.
Because love written down has a way of lasting.
And sometimes, the smallest message becomes the sweetest legacy.
Do you have a handwritten letter, card, or postcard you’ve saved because it meant something special to you?
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