I began writing letters - of the posted kind - as a child, writing to my grandmother in Christchurch and to a pen friend in England.
At university I wrote to friends studying in Auckland and Dunedin and I was delighted to come across these letters again recently, in a box of memorabilia from my early 20s.
I'd forgotten who I'd written to and who'd replied.
Now before me were double-sided cursive, scribbled and at times poetic responses to the questions, celebrations and tragedies of those years; love, heartache and history.
The joys and horrors of living in hostels - including insightful stories from my Knox College friends.
To be able to come across these felt as much a privilege as opening them for the first time did.
To lift from the past such personal and sincere accounts of our age, times and experiences.
In a way I could never glean from past emails, as previous accounts were exchanged for new ones without thought to print out exchanges.
Now, I'm raising two small daughters.
Daily life is busy, yet the desire to maintain friendships and connectedness across distance hasn't diminished; it's just more difficult to do so meaningfully.
Timing is everything. And so it is that the value of the letter has come back into my life.
The beauty of the letter is this: you write a letter when you've something to say or express, the recipient gets the letter and can save it to read in peace - with a cup of tea, if they can bear to wait.
You get the best of each other, unlike the hurried phone call, and over time the conversation evolves.
But a discussion of letters is incomplete without mentioning the means by which they arrive - the postie.
And there is talk now of laying off postal staff and deliveries reducing by half as mail volumes decrease.
Here in Dunedin we have great posties. Our local postie is fit, seasoned and a revered citizen of the community.
Equally capable and rapturously friendly is our other local postie, who delivers mail by bicycle up and down North Rd.
As I walk in our neighbourhood daily I have been amazed to see there is seldom a car that doesn't toot a greeting or a pedestrian who doesn't stop to say hello to him.
Though difficult to measure in monetary terms, the contribution to the social fabric and the value to the community of a regular, frequent and trusted postal service is priceless.
Posties crisscross our streets delivering mail and news - I learnt of the February 22 earthquake in Christchurch from our postie.
Posties also provide a regular presence where otherwise there might be fewer people - I consider our neighbourhoods and elderly citizens benefit from an extra degree of security provided by the daily presence of posties.
Back to the joy of letters and their future. I recently helped my 5-year-old to write a letter to her friend in Wellington.
She is learning to form letters and words at school; now she is learning how to address an envelope, where the stamp goes and the importance of her own address on the other side.
She posted it herself and to her delight received a letter two weeks later addressed with her name in her friend's careful (5-year-old) handwriting.
Letters may be written from anywhere; on the bus, on a sunny veranda outside the children's play group, after children are in bed and dishes are put away.
All you need is a scrap of paper and a pen.
I'm not sure we can save our precious six-day postal service, but I can almost guarantee if you write a letter - you'll get one back, and that is all the joy.
Amy Thorburn is an avid letter-writer, mother and proud citizen of the Northeast Valley community.
