In an era dominated by instant digital communication, the simple act of sending a postcard is experiencing a quiet renaissance. For writer Minoli Wijetunga, these tangible tokens have become a vital way to maintain meaningful connections across the miles, offering something a fleeting Instagram story or a WhatsApp message never can.
The Tangible Touch in a Digital World
Wijetunga describes the profound joy of returning home to find a colourful postcard waiting in the letterbox. One such card, wishing "happy birthday Minoli nenda" (using the Sinhala word for aunt), offered a moment of pure, physical connection amidst a busy day. Unlike a notification that flashes and disappears, a postcard is a real, physical object that carries the sender's direct thought and effort.
She argues that the entire process of sending a postcard is a deliberate labour of love. Selecting the perfect image that speaks to a shared memory or interest, carefully composing a message by hand, and even the ritual of buying stamps and finding a postbox are all therapeutic acts. They transform the recipient into a virtual companion, sharing a sunny moment in a park or a journey on a rickety train.
Creating Community Through Snail Mail
The journey of a postcard, Wijetunga notes, often involves a wider community than just the sender and receiver. She imagines postal workers glimpsing the messages, and recounts a hilarious incident where a postman felt compelled to comment on a card her partner sent featuring 'Bronzed Aussies'. The bemused delivery person shared a laugh about the image with Wijetunga's mother.
This highlights a key charm of postcards: while intended as a private note between two people, their physical nature means their passage is witnessed and facilitated by others. In a time where genuine dialogue can feel scarce, postcards preserve a form of communication that is both personal and curiously public.
A Lifelong Fascination and a Pandemic Rediscovery
Wijetunga's fascination with postcards began in childhood, poring over albums of cards sent to her parents and hearing the stories behind them. As an adult, she honed the skill of choosing cards that captured the essence of a place and her feelings there.
It was during the Covid-19 pandemic, however, while living in isolation, that she fully rediscovered their power to connect. She used them to share specific, sensory moments—like eating a falafel wrap in a university alcove—with her partner, or describing the adorable sight of a Highland cow to a friend.
This led to a beautiful tradition with Chethi, the three-year-old son of a childhood friend. Wijetunga began sending him his own postcards from her travels, from Vietnam's conical nón lá hats to hand-drawn origami cranes from Japan, complete with explanations of their cultural significance.
The tradition came full circle when, three years later, Chethi sent his first postcard: a drawing of a monster. His mother explained that, according to the young artist, it was "a good monster with powers and weapons" who would look over and bless Wijetunga. That drawing now holds pride of place on her fridge, a daily reminder of a unique and cherished bond.
For Minoli Wijetunga, the humble postcard is far more than paper and ink. It is a vessel for love, a catalyst for community, and a lasting artefact of human connection in a transient digital world. Its continued blessing, she finds, is starting every day with a smile.
