Oh how I LOVE snail mail. You know, the kind that comes in the post box. Not the bills kind, the handwritten kind.
It was always an invitation, a card or a letter from a loved one. Either one of these would make you feel loved and thought about.
I am talking about this in the past tense because it really doesn't exist any more.
Sure we get our parcels that we ordered or the occasional bill we haven't yet given our email to, but it is a rare occasion to get a personal note in the mail.
An invitation would evoke a feeling of inclusion and anticipation. You would feel the envelope, look at the hand writing and flip the envelope over to see who the sender was. The invitation would go straight onto the fridge for the weeks before the event. The invitation style would set or imply the dress code and give you weeks of excitement and planning what to wear. Oh how I love the snail mail invitation.
A card would mostly mean that your birthday was imminent. Maybe it was your nan's handwriting and you knew there was a $5 or $10 note inside waiting for you. As a kid, I loved checking the mail box the week before my birthday. Just like Christmas (yes we used to send Christmas cards too), the birthday cards would line the mantle or shelf for a week or two after your birthday. These cards meant you were king of the house so long as they were displayed.
And then a there was a letter. A letter meant someone had to sit down, and spend an hour or more writing as neatly as they could to tell you their latest news. There were writing sets you could buy and I AWLAYS spent my pocket money on a new set. I wrote to my nan, my dad (my parents were divorced) and my best friend for years. I kept pen pals that would come and go, and up until recently when we moved house, I kept love letters, and ever letter I ever received. Oh how I miss hand written letters. Now my handwriting is barely legible as typing is now the main way of communicating.
Oh how I love snail mail, and the memory of what once was - a way of feeling thought about and loved.
