One of the lost arts in today's world is not that of puff paint T-shirt crafting, but of the good ol' fashion mail. While very few could argue the ease and convenience of e-mailing, just as few could argue the simple thrill of receiving a bright colored envelope with actual handwriting in their mailbox. Even more exciting is opening the door to a bland yellow and brown cardboard package at your doorstep. It's not so much the receiving of things that's so exciting, so much as it is the thought someone put into it. It takes a lot more effort to purchase a card or trinket item, then handwrite a note, and finally postmarking the item than it does typing out a short line and then hitting "Send"
After receiving a care package in the mail the other day from my friends Emilie and Margaret in Chicago, I rediscovered my love for this means of communication, and how little I actually utilize it. Stuffed in my very contrite mailbox I found a large brown envelope decorated in even darker brown tape. Inside the envelope was even more interesting. Ever the nurturing nurses, my friends felt the best cure for my pneumonia would be red beans and rice, an Elvis magnet, and a package of Stankies, which are in fact not deodorizers, but decorative tissues (all of these were jokes from our New Orleans trip). Due to a misplaced mail key, I received the package after being highly medicated on Levaquin to cure my pneumonia. However, not knowing the medical research behind any items in the care package, I have no doubt it would have been a powerful aid in my recovery.
Once my household got a replacement mail key and we were showered with stationary and the likes, we were constantly walking down the street to the mailbox, as if everyday would come with small surprises. Just a couple days later though I did happen upon another brown padded envelope. It was from my Mom, whom I knew was sending up some packaging I left at home. Along with the articles of boring paperwork though, I found a bag of M&Ms, my biggest addiction. To say it made my day would be an understatement; the bag was empty close to immediately and I went into a state of euphoria after finally satisfying my chocolate craving. From there I decided to start reciprocating the love of greeting cards. I went to a local stationary store in Downtown Columbia, the Pen Point that I had stumbled upon just a few days earlier. The little loft store was a small slice of stationary heaven. If I had not just spent more than my projected budget for a haircut I would be swimming in linen paper. A couple greeting cards and a new stationary set were purchased though for various events in the hopes that a little bit of my personal style and a needed smile will be shared on the other side of the mailbox.
