I’ve always believed in the written word. Putting your thoughts down on paper helps you clearly understand what and how you want to share something. Writing clarifies. It illuminates. It helps you strengthen thoughts. It helps you better articulate. It helps you follow your own growth in the way you look at yourself and the world around you.

Back in 1970, the year of my birth, my grandmother’s dear friend, Kay Reed, wrote me a letter. I still have it today. It didn’t go into detail about any particular topic, but rather she welcomed me into the world and expressed strong hope that my name would be spelled with an “a” after her rather than an “e” after my great-grandmother. Of course, my parents chose the version with an “e.”

Perhaps Kay’s letter is the reason I’ve always enjoyed receiving hand written notes, letters and cards. Even if only a few moments are spent composing them, the love seems to run deeper than in a text. That’s why I’ve always dropped cards in the mail to friends and family at random. I’ve been told by plenty that I’m living in the so called ‘dark ages’ but once you’re on the receiving end of a letter, you’ll understand just how special snail mail can be.

I realize I’ve wandered a bit from the typical storyline of my Chilmark column, but my mind went there for a small and simple reason. Young Sadie Coutinho has celebrated her second birthday. You’re likely wondering how my mind melded this all into a train of thought. Sadie is one of the many tiny humans I revel in watching grow up. I thought of her going from baby to toddler to, now, practically a big kid. It made me think of my kids and their childhoods. It made me think of my own and how, even in my earliest days, I was receiving what I’ll call postal bouquets.

It’s always hard to lose a family pet. For many, they truly become active members of the family and many aspects of day to day life revolve around them. Liz, Kevin, Solon, Barrett, Delilah and Hollis have been mourning their lovable Squibby since last May. Dogs are unique in their own way and, as I read somewhere, “Grief is the price you pay for love.”

Last week, the time felt right to open the book and write a new chapter. Liz and Kevin surprised their kids with a four pawed addition to the family. Knowing how strong their bond was with Squibby, they sought out his great nephew and fondly named him, Cricker. Although Squibby will alway hold a spot in their hearts, may this new, little fluff ball golden retriever bring joy, a sense adventure and an excuse for new canine memories to the Olivers.

Happy 22 birthday to Bella Thorpe. Although she wasn’t in town to celebrate (classes at UVM and her spectacular horse keep her busy) her mom, Julie Flanders, hit the open road and paid a visit. How did all these kids I knew as babies become adults? Yes, that’s simply a rhetorical question.

A warm welcome to adulthood goes out to Laila Fenner. Becoming an adult is a gradual evolution, not something that happens magically on the morning of your 18th birthday, but Jan. 27 is the day that marks the reality of that transition. It’s hard to imagine that she can now, among other things, vote, serve on a jury, sign a contract and buy a lottery ticket. My oh my, they grow up in the blink of an eye.

January has brought the typical shade of New England gray, but it has been interspersed with a few bright days. The cold has set in long enough that the ice has formed on ponds and folks have not only laced up skates, they have dug the ice boats out of summer storage. Brock Callen and Isaac Taylor, among others, took advantage of the glassy conditions and just enough wind to send them sailing across Squibnocket Pond.

We still have the tiny kick sled Scott McDowell brought back from his ice boating days in Lapland, Finland for Bradley when she was little. They do make adult size ones. I might need to invest. It’s a lot of fun.