By Dr. Marian Fritzemeier, Ed.D. © 2016
Dark. Dreary. Depressing.
Dark clouds. Dreary days. Depressing weather.
January. The longgggest month.
I finally put on my heavy jacket and boots to traipse to the mailbox in the cold rain. It’s been a few days since I ventured here. How often do I need to get cold and wet just to find junk mail?
I unlock the slotted mailbox and juggle one stack from the box. Just great. The latest AARP magazine. Am I really old enough for this organization?
A group of junk mails falls to the wet ground. As I bend to retrieve it, my head bumps the open door. I hope there’s something worthwhile in here.
I pull out a second group of mail, followed by a third. I juggle the mail in my arms hoping I don’t drop anymore. I see a couple more magazines. I haven’t even read the ones from last month, or the month before.
After dumping the mail on the kitchen counter, I quickly begin sorting it into four piles: my mail, Rick’s, bills, and mail to throw out. I continue sorting. Local coupon book, PG & E bill, Rick’s golf magazine.
What’s this? A white envelope with a handwritten address. A return address label I recognize. I open the envelope. A Christmas card in January. The family letter brings me joy and happy memories. More bills, more junk, and another hand addressed envelope. This one’s green.
Many people fret if their Christmas cards are “late,” but these cards arrive as a bright spot in January. Maybe more of us should mail our cards “late” so that when they are received, they bring quiet moments of unrushed joy.
Image Source: green-envelope-1426700 [freeimages.com]