I have come to love my mailbox. It may be a sad, black and flimsy thing, its golden numbers peeling from its muted face.
But the treasure it carries…
One never realizes how important their lifelines are until they throw themselves into the wind. Even though the internet connects us to friends and families in an instant, I still love letters. And packages. And mailed notes.
I like that person who goes the extra step. Even if it’s just a 50-cent stamp.
That extra step was especially welcome a little while ago. After a particularly excruciating day at work, depression from the bleak locale and feelings of isolation, I trudged up the hill to my corner of the mansion. While my feet slowly moved onward and upward, my heart dragged behind me on the cold, hard ground.
Until a box caught my eye. A box? A box! Someone sent me a box! My spirits soared as I whisked it inside. Tearing off tape and bubble wrap, I squealed with delight. A letter! And little gifts! Each with a note attached. How thoughtful! How lovely! How sorely needed…
If I had not moved away, never would I have known how close my friends and family are to my heart. And how deeply they care about me in return.
Long chats in coffee houses, tight embraces, laughter and exploration have transformed into long-awaited letters, little packages and online messages. Perhaps it isn’t the same as it was before… but these things are still precious and dear to my heart.
I dare you to reach out to someone today. Take out that dusty pencil, that rusted pen. Apply your mind to paper and let someone know: you remember. You remember them. And your heart yearns to hold them once again.