The other day I opened the mail box and for once, my childhood letter-dreams were fulfilled.
Oh the simple joy of an unexpected letter.
When I was little I assumed that mail always consisted of notes from friends, brightly colored cards and sweet messages. But, the reality is that 99.9% of the time the post is filled with bills, advertisements, and more bills.
Growing up our mail box was a mile away down a long-dusty gravel road. My mom and I would drive down to get the mail every afternoon and I would wait in anticipation, hoping beyond all hope that there would be something in that tiny tin box for me. When my mom returned only to inform me that there was, yet again, no special something addressed to me, I would cross my arms, hunch my shoulder, and pout like a champ.
To which my momma would always say, “You better be careful, or a birds gonna poop on that lip.” And then she’d giggle, (my mom giggled a lot) cause I guess my grandpa used to say the same thing to her.
I now say the same thing to my daughter.
Anyhow, so the other day I went out to gather up the inevitable bills and was greeted by not one, but two cards in the mail.
The first was a simple picture from a woman I’ve never met, but have fallen into friendship with via social media and neighboring blogs.
I’ve yet to ever exist face to face with this beautiful woman, and yet she took the time to write me a get well card and send it via snail-mail.
I am so flattered, and grateful.
The other card was even more amazing.
This card was sent from a woman who knew my biological parents from way back in Alaska. Over 30 years ago.
She sent me this card simply because she had stumbled across a picture of my family and wanted to share both the photo and her story.
How incredibly thoughtful.
What a wonderful gift.
I am again reminded of how truly blessed I’ve been in this life. I’ve been surrounded by people who are kind, and loving, and good.
I am honored, and inspired.
When I first graduated from college my dear friend and I would write each other just about once a month. We used cute stationary and wrote simple stories. It wasn’t dramatic or profound, but it was sweet. I looked forward to every letter and read and re-read them every time.
I don’t know why we stopped.
Every new years I make plans to write more letters and every year I forget to get to it.
Well, today I plan to write a letter.
Maybe I’ll be able to pay forward the childlike joy that I felt opening these little gifts.
And give someone else the simple joy of an unexpected letter.