I wrote two letters last night. An old stationery box served as a lap desk. This is the envelope for one. You can barely make out the name on the box, but the logo cannot be mistaken for anything other than what it is. Hallmark's.
It doesn't get more bare bones than this, does it? I like it just as much as the first one though. James Beard's grin steals the show. The plain white envelope holds a single sheet of paper with two sentences. It holds a letter to someone who used to be a best friend forever. Someone who saved my life, someone I loved the way I never loved my sisters. She was better than a sister. We parted ways under a dark cloud of mistrust, hurt, feelings, outsider interference and misunderstandings. She wrote to me a few years after my departure. So much time had passed before the letter finally caught up with me, and I still had not let go of the feelings of betrayal I felt justified in nursing before I finally answered, that the moment for reconciliation passed and died.
I've never really known how to nurture the friendships I deserve. I have a feeling most of my peers don't know how to either. Military families learn not to hold on to anything that can't be boxed, crated, or shipped ahead. Emotions and affections hardly ever survived a move. Sworn oaths of forever and ever friendships never stood a chance. I often read posts about high school reunions, best friends and first love reunions, and I can only wonder. I leave comments in my wake that ask the same old questions. "How do you sustain your friendship? What's it like meeting again?" Or, "Is the magic still there?" I have never received a satisfactory answer--an explanation.
Surely there's a secret formula that was kept from little-girl me. Teen me. Adult me. I've lost three forever friends in this lifetime. I've tried reconnecting twice. People change. They lose trust. Hurt hearts don't always heal. Still and all, I have to try again. Third time's the charm, right? So, I Googled her maiden name, her married name, having forgotten her new post-divorce name. I used to know it but something powerful blocked it out. I searched blindly for years. I even asked Erin for help. No success. No results. Then yesterday, a hunch came from out of the blue. It took a single search. Intuition is a powerful thing.
I found my once upon a time best friend. She's been on FaceBook for years. She's on every bit of social media that's available to humanity. I'm not. No matter. The universe knows all. It knew when to whisper "Get up. Go look for her." I listened. I heard. I obeyed. And so, I drove all the way to the post office to mail the letter that can open a door to a pathway of reconciliation, or . . . I can't even say it.
I have a sore throat. My lips are so dry. How dry are they? My lips are so dry they hurt. My ears ache. It rained on my way home from the post office. I miss the sun but the air is thinner-drier-cooler. Sounds carry much father. I want to pull on another pair of socks, a hoodie, grab my book and crawl into bed. But I'm not sick. A simple antihistamine should fix me right up. I have to tell you this first . . .
My letter from the Postal Consumer Advocate led to hours of postal related reading, and the Dead Letter Office kept popping up. It's been renamed but I prefer the title DLO. So. Do you know even a little about the DLO? If you do, will you share what you know? Did you know there's a show on Hallmark called, "Signed, Sealed, Delivered?" Can you believe that I took these photos just for you? Check out the collar bling on this young actress's collar.
Check out her roller skates. When asked why roller skates, she offered her colleagues this bit of information: Dang! I forget! No. Wait! I think she said postal employees in Norway wear roller skates, and it speeds up production by I forget how much. Note her lavender knee pads. Also note that she is the only one wearing skates. But do check out the blurred surroundings. Have you ever gone into the body of your local post office? I have. Ours look nothing like this beautiful space.
I wish I knew what the contraption on the left is. My Olympus takes better television photos, but my phone was handier. Scene after scene is filled with more interesting things than the story lines in this show, but it's worth trying to see past the poor scripts and bad acting to enjoy all the stuff that makes you wonder.
Why, oh why are those beautiful mail boxes there? Oh. To make the show look more postal? Props. They're mere props. *sigh*
I almost cropped this poor photo but didn't because it's part of the reason why it landed in the Dead Letter Office! Aha! You get it, yes? Yes! Dead letters go dead for specific reasons. Well, yeah. Right? So, these actors get to . . . Oh my goodness, they have a Miss Special Letter pageant? The actors get to spend each episode solving the mysteries behind dead letters, while romance takes root and gets help blooming and stalling.
Do you know there's even a "Dead Letter" movie? Did you know a famous work of art ended up in the DLO? Do you know there are DLO auctions for totally dead mail? Ahem. The manila envelope has a major clue written on the back. I think it was written by the deceased. Collectors covet the labels attached to returned DL heirs. Do you have a little dead letter label in your safe? I hope you'll check out the Hallmark Channel's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered." You might not like it but it'll sure make you
groan grin a lot. *very big grin*