Postcards From a Rooftop
From a rooftop in Cape Town to someone’s hands somewhere else, ex trustee Lucy reflects on how a simple letter can travel far beyond its starting point - carrying comfort, connection, and a reminder that someone cares.
There’s a particular kind of stillness that only exists above a city.
Not the silence of emptiness but, the softened version of everything. The traffic becomes a distant hum, conversations blur into texture, and even time feels like it loosens its grip a little.
I’m sitting on the rooftop at the Silo, a cocktail in hand something citrusy, cold, and just sharp enough to remind me I’m here, I’ve arrived. Below me, Cape Town stretches out in layers: harbour, city streets, mountain, sky. And somewhere in between all of that, I’ve taken out my stash of postcards to write for From Me to You’s Donate a Letter campaign.
There’s something almost surreal about writing letters in a place like this.
It feels indulgent at first sunlight on your shoulders, a beautifully made drink beside you, the sun as its sets and a view that people travel across the world to see. And then you remember why you’re writing.
These letters aren’t about where you are.
They’re about where your words might go.
And suddenly, the contrast matters.
Because while I’m sitting here above the city, someone else might be sitting in a hospital room, or at a kitchen table on a hard day, or in a moment where things feel particularly heavy. And this letter, this simple, handwritten piece of connection will travel from this rooftop into their world.
That thought changes how you write.
The cocktail sweats onto the table as I begin.
You don’t start with something grand. You start with something real.
“Hi, I don’t know you, but I wanted to write anyway…”
There’s honesty in that kind of beginning. No pressure to impress. No expectation of reply. Just a quiet offering: I’m here, and I thought of you.
And as I write, I realise something, the act of letter writing pulls you out of your own moment, even one as beautiful as this.
You start to notice different things.
Not just the view, but the feeling of it.
Not just the sunlight, but what it might mean to someone who hasn’t felt it in a while.
Not just your own comfort, but the possibility of sharing a piece of it through words.
Writing for From Me to You isn’t about crafting the perfect sentence. It’s about offering something human.
A few lines of encouragement.
A shared thought.
A reminder that someone, somewhere, took the time.
So I keep writing.
Not thinking too hard. Not over editing. Just letting the words move from this rooftop, through my pen, into something that might land gently in someone else’s day.
If you ever find yourself somewhere beautiful, whether it’s a rooftop, a café, or just a quiet corner with good light try writing a letter.
Not because the setting demands it, but because it gives you something to give.
Because even here, above the city, with a cocktail in hand and the world stretched out below, the most meaningful thing you can do is reach beyond yourself.
One letter.
One moment.
From me….. to you.
