Bright mail is like red sails at sunset. Both make you smile. They lift your spirit. Even higher. Make you want to write on, not abandon your little space . . . Sharing thoughts makes you realize how grateful one can be for a punctuation mark called an ellipsis. Three dots in a row allow you to save face, spare someone your naked emotions, leave a reader to imagine what they will . . .
Bright mail is like summer's last hurrah. In a hurry. In a hurry 'cause the third season is shoving it out of its way. Summer's bluffing, huffing and puffing, and pushing back though. It's so hot in the backyard I forfeit my sit-out in lieu of the cool comforts of chilled air inside. Cheating is only fair. So I sit with the back door open, allowing the sun to heat me up just enough to feel good.
I undid my hair balls. They exploded like a patch of newborn dandelions. Still damp from the shower, I slept on it, knowing I shouldn't. The next morning Minuet said, "Looks like you slid down a wall and slept where you landed." Felt like I had. We ate a meal at a place that will remain un-named, and talk about being sick afterward? Yick! Still feels like I'm rolling in the deep, so there's no mail today for tomorrow.
I'll share my Mail Wish List another day.
Write, write, write! And write back at 'cha!