One of life’s joys: getting the mail. It is something I look forward to every day (well, except for Sunday ... Sundays a little disappointment passes through me each time I realize there is no mail delivered that day. Not getting the mail is one of the worst parts of holidays.). When I pull into my apartment’s parking lot, I think, “Ah ha! The mail!” and I get this little thrill, a slight rush. Who knows what could be coming in the mail? Books and earrings and other purchases, letters from my three Compassion kiddos, rewards from my credit card. I buy things online and then feel even MORE excited to get the mail. Sometimes I decide to track the packages online, and sometimes I just let myself be surprise, almost hoping that I will forget that I ordered anything and then, “Oh wow! A package in the mail!” like an unexpected kiss on the cheek.
I have a friend who abhors getting the mail. He feels the way about the mailbox the way I feel about voicemail: stressed, apprehensive, certain that it will be full of bad news or rejection. He checks his mailbox about once every other week. I am trying to be better, but I sometimes save up a month’s worth of voicemails before listening. Isn’t it bizarre how people react so differently to the same situations? I greet the postman like he is sunshine on my face; my friend regards him as the Grim Reaper. My friend loves voicemail and listens immediately, eager for whatever message a friend has left. I am certain that I’ve been fired or have done something wrong, hurt someone’s feelings, that someone I know is in the hospital or needs a favor that I really don't want to help with. Lots of my friends don’t leave me voicemails anymore. I’m glad.
Send me a letter. :-)