Every weekend we go out to the community mailbox to pick up the week’s mail. Why do we stop just once a week? This is why:
I mean, really, what’s the point of even opening the mailbox? Other than to empty it out so more flyers can be put in.
Occasionally there’s a package, something we’ve ordered online. There used to be utility bills or bank statements, but we get all that online now.
A long time ago, I used to get letters from my gramma Min. She passed away in 1993. I still have those letters. I keep them tucked away in a box with other special things (like letters from my mom).
What I appreciate now when I read those letters is how easy it was for her to write. She’d tell me about things the family was doing, how her bowling was going, how she was feeling. She’d send a recipe but as much I would try, I could never make anything taste as good as she could.
Sometimes the letter would start off with her saying that it was nice talking on the phone the night before. And it would end with her telling me that she’s thinking of me. The letters were usually written over a few days.
Maybe what she wrote wasn’t profound or full of deep meaning or anything that would end up in history books. It was about her life. And it didn’t need to be anything more than that.
Once in a while, I’ll pull out the letters and read one or two. I always cry a bit as I read but I also smile because I’m so happy that I have these letters to remember her by.