I see you every time I leave my house. You sit round the corner waiting for letters and thin parcels. Sometimes at Christmas time you get so full that when I put my pile of cards in I have to pat them down on top of all the others. You are as much a part of my daily life as a cup of tea and walking the dog.
When I go to other countries I miss your bright red shiny presence and have to find my way through a different culture of yellow or blue. Its just not the same.
And then by a process of magic the letters I put in you reach people from round the corner in my small town to distant cousins in Canada and the USA, friends, and strangers. Now that most of my friends and relatives are on email, Facebook or twitter, most of the time we communicate electronically. Photos get sent instantly. I can see the latest wedding, christening or new baby , puppy or kitten in minutes. And I love that.
But every day when I come home, I look for the post. Still I retain that sense of excitement. The possibility of a handwritten card or letter lingers. Of course most days its junk mail from holiday companies, catalogues for clothes I’m trying not to buy, reminders the insurance is due or the parking fine is outstanding.
So this year I am going to try to write a letter, send a card to those I love more than once a year.
Thank you dear Red Post-Box for the reminder.