Do you ever open the mailbox to a hand written note? I have friends that are very good at doing that.
I feel so special, cherished and loved.
I have a serious disorder. I didn’t know how bad it was until a few years ago. I used to LOVE writing people letters and notes. I love paper. I love buying paper. I have a full box of various stationary that I packed when we moved marked “Reema’s paper.”
Yet over the years I find sealed envelopes that are addressed stashed in various places.
I can’t seem to MAIL things! The act of physically putting something in the mailbox is where I suffer tremendously.
I finally have accepted the fact that I do not mail things.
I opened my mailbox and there was a lovely note from one of my cousins. He does not have a computer. No email… the occasional phone call… back to the middle ages.
So I read a lovely letter from him, catching up on his life.
Then I realized that it is only fair that I reply him. I doubt typing it would be polite.
And then I have to MAIL it!
I have not done this in so long. I am over due.
Have we lost the art of writing to each other? I have to admit part of the annoyance is that I have to WAIT for a while for a reply. No instant gratification.
Snail mail has a whole new meaning.