Small Packages

Good Things Come In Small Packages

My husband says, "You know, Julie, it IS possible for the UPS or FedEx guy to drive PAST our house once in a while." 

And I say, "Oh, but how fun is it when he doesn't!"

With the exception of bills (which are mostly online anyway) and junk (bonfire fodder), getting mail is usually fun for me. It just isn't quite what it used to be, I guess. I mean, I have to send myself packages, which isn't the same as getting something unexpected from a friend or family member. Buuut, if an Amazon order happens to get backordered long enough, I might forget about it, and when it suddenly shows up, it's a fun surprise then!  

Getting mail as a kid was so different. I remember writing to my cousin in North Dakota every week and anxiously awaiting her reply. We were the same age and had EVERYTHING to talk about. Long-distance phone bills, however, were a thing. A not-okay thing for families living on a budget. A tight budget. 

So, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

I let my voice spill over the college-ruled paper, front and back, until I had said it all. Well, for the moment, at least. Then I counted the days. One... two... THREE days it took for a letter from Detroit Lakes, MN, to get to Enderline, ND. With good weather. Then, at least one more foot-tapping, finger-thrumming day to give her a chance to write back. And agony of agonies! One... two... THREE more days it took for her letter to reach me. I watched out the window, waited for the mail lady to stop, then marched down the driveway as she got out of my way, opened the treasure trove, and claimed my prize. 

I devoured my cousin's words in a frenzied flash, and often finished reading it before I'd made it back up the driveway. Always wishing she'd written more (To be fair, she wrote at least as much as I did. We were both talkers.) I would re-read it and re-read it, listening to her voice, laughing with her, shaking my head at the latest drama, and seeing her sitting next to me.

What a treasure that little envelope held for me. A prize in the mailbox. A gift. Just words.

Now, I try to write my stories with the same vim and vigor, hopefully expanding my audience as I go. My second Forever Fields book is well underway and, if all goes as hoped, should be available to become a special prize from me to you in your mailbox (or your inbox) by the end of the year! 

A small package full of good things.