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Once upon a time, I sent a package to a land far, far away. And then today, it came back. —————————————————————————————————————— Last month, in preparation for Cora’s birthday, I bought a gift, a card, and a mailing envelope for said gift and card. I assembled the package with enough time for it to reach its destination before her actual birthday, which is quite the exercise in forethought, fore-shopping and fore-mailing. All I needed was her address in Colorado. My initial instinct was to call my mom because she undoubtedly has tabs on her child’s current location, but worried she wouldn’t be home to look for the address in the mound of “important notes” she keeps piled near the kitchen telephone. Instead, I opted to text Harold because I figured he would surely have the address with him. You know, IN HIS MIND, because that’s where he LIVES. He texted back quickly, and I jotted the address on the package, ran to the post office on my lunch break, and came back to my office so triumphant that I told my coworkers about the miraculous nature of having the gift scheduled to arrive a day early. Now, fast forward a week or so. September 20 — the big day — arrives, and I wish Cora a brief “happy birthday” over IM because, after all, she’s supposed to have already received my nifty card and gift. On September 21 I realize that Cora never said anything about her gift. Odd. Time passes………. And more time passes…….. And even more time passes……….. And finally so much time passes that Cora and I try to search out a logical explanation for why the package was never delivered. Now’s the time for you to glance up at the photo I posted of my returned gift. This is my warning to all the world: brother-in-laws are not to be trusted!!! (Just kidding. Oh, and Harold, when are we going to finish my blog redesign? I think you have a debt to repay….)

Once upon a time, I sent a package to a land far, far away.

And then today, it came back.

——————————————————————————————————————

Last month, in preparation for Cora’s birthday, I bought a gift, a card, and a mailing envelope for said gift and card. I assembled the package with enough time for it to reach its destination before her actual birthday, which is quite the exercise in forethought, fore-shopping and fore-mailing.

All I needed was her address in Colorado.

My initial instinct was to call my mom because she undoubtedly has tabs on her child’s current location, but worried she wouldn’t be home to look for the address in the mound of “important notes” she keeps piled near the kitchen telephone.

Instead, I opted to text Harold because I figured he would surely have the address with him. You know, IN HIS MIND, because that’s where he LIVES.

He texted back quickly, and I jotted the address on the package, ran to the post office on my lunch break, and came back to my office so triumphant that I told my coworkers about the miraculous nature of having the gift scheduled to arrive a day early.

Now, fast forward a week or so.

September 20 — the big day — arrives, and I wish Cora a brief “happy birthday” over IM because, after all, she’s supposed to have already received my nifty card and gift.

On September 21 I realize that Cora never said anything about her gift. Odd.

Time passes……….

And more time passes……..

And even more time passes………..

And finally so much time passes that Cora and I try to search out a logical explanation for why the package was never delivered.

Now’s the time for you to glance up at the photo I posted of my returned gift. This is my warning to all the world: brother-in-laws are not to be trusted!!!

(Just kidding. Oh, and Harold, when are we going to finish my blog redesign? I think you have a debt to repay….)

I LOVE getting mail! Ms. Sara Weaver, or Sweaver as she’s commonly known, sent me a note from Boston. I can just about feel the cool, crisp New England air she experiences when she’s not sitting in her brand spankin’ new apartment. Thank goodness for that!

I LOVE getting mail!

Ms. Sara Weaver, or Sweaver as she’s commonly known, sent me a note from Boston. I can just about feel the cool, crisp New England air she experiences when she’s not sitting in her brand spankin’ new apartment. Thank goodness for that!

Special Delivery

Just before I left Minnesota in August, one of my friends sent me a handwritten postcard. Like so many other people, I love getting mail.

I should probably clarify that last statement.

I’ve lived in so many ZIP codes in the past few years that it’s nearly impossible for any magazine subscription, credit card company, or annoying junk mailer to keep up. I’m sure people near and far get catalogs addressed to “Laura Swanson or Current Resident” because by the time I get entered into massive databases, I’ve moseyed on. What’s probably unique for any citizen of our advertising-obsessed country is that I only get mail –- of any size, shape, or solicitation –- about once a week.

Instead of dreading those papers and envelopes that pile up on kitchen tables and counters everywhere, I look forward to getting something in the mail: whatever it may be.

To get back to my original point, I was so thrilled when I got my postcard from Steph that I was going to write a blog post about the importance of written mail when e-mail, Facebook, and text messaging offer more immediacy but far less personality. I was also planning to make a list of goals, one of them being to send out more handwritten mail.

These thoughts were floating around in my well-meaning head when Steph sent me another personalized card. This time it was customized with one of her own photos and accompanied by a homemade gift.

Good grief.

I HADN’T EVEN WRITTEN MY BLOG YET! HOW COULD SHE HAVE TIME TO GATHER MY NEW ADDRESS, DESIGN THE CARD, WRITE THE CARD, MAIL IT ACROSS THE COUNTRY, AND HAVE IT LAND IN MY MAILBOX?

The answer is that she made time. It’s easy to justify abandoning hobbies, taking short cuts, or putting things off ‘til tomorrow when we’re busy. But often the point of life is to make time for little things like sending a note to a friend just to let him or her know that you’re thinking of them.

This is one of my new goals. Feel free to hold me to it.

Oh, and I’ve recently started getting one consistent piece of mail: student loan repayment bills. I should have savored my mail-free days more while they lasted.