I am excited to informally announce the winner of the essay contest I hosted with Giftsin24.com. The formal announcement will be posted over there. But in the meantime, here is the winning essay by Don Blankenship of Ohio followed by a transcript of the letter that he’s held onto for so long. The letter seems simple at first, but the last two lines get me (and I imagine Don) every time I read it. I can see how those words of encouragement—especially written by someone you love—could move you again and again.

Letter from a Poignant Pen
By Don Blankenship

At the time, it didn’t seem like much, a handwritten note scribbled on rose colored stationary. Gripped with the excitement of my impending high school graduation, I nonchalantly tucked it into a shoe box in my closet. When things died down, I would make the time to send the obligatory thank-you note. After all, my grandmother would understand. She knew how I had worked for this moment, and she would want me to take the time to revel in my success. Her closing lines had summarized this fact so succinctly: “Remember to stop and enjoy the view, but never dally too long, there are other mountains to climb. You, dear one, are among the best of mountaineers.”

Characteristic of her lighthearted sense of humor, she had made a reference to my West Virginia heritage. In the Mountain State, I had grown-up surrounded by my large immediate family: two brothers, two sisters, and myself. My parents worked diligently to meet our necessities, and as the family’s self proclaimed teenage rebel, I hadn’t made their lives easy. I was constantly skipping school, falling in with the wrong crowd, and testing any authority figure that would muster the courage to produce a challenge. My younger years were driven by vain attempts for attention—a product of intense sibling rivalry. I craved the spotlight and was less than reticent in securing its glow.

My grandmother, who lived several hours away in Northern Ohio, had sensed this longing. Although our relationship had consisted of a few stolen moments during school breaks and on holidays, somehow, she had a special way of making me feel important. At times, it seemed as if I was the only person in her world. My success and happiness took precedent above her personal indulgences. Freely she offered devotion, and as a young egotist, I satiated myself in her attention. Of course, a milestone such as my graduation would warrant a written response. While the letter wasn’t particularly lengthy, I could almost feel the emotion emanate from its pages.

I never got around to writing that thank you letter. Grandma died that summer of cardiovascular disease; however, the letter she wrote is no longer relegated to the recesses of my closet. It sits neatly folded in a decorative glass jar on my nightstand. When the obstacles seem too multiple to bear or my heart is filled with bliss over life’s numerous joys, I remove the letter and savor its wisdom. It comforted me with the death of a close aunt, and I chuckled as I read it the day I graduated from college. Somewhere located in those few scrawled lines her spirit lives, continuing to reach out with so much consideration left to give.

Dear Grandson,

With much love,
Nana

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