Friday, February 15, 2013
Wednesday night, after a long and unhappy day, I sat on my old creaky hardwood floors and got lost in a sea of hearts. As the watercolors dripped and faded into the white paper, mixing into a pallet of reds and purples I thought back to the days of fine glitter and lace trimmed paper. My mom would bring out the box of heart shaped stamps and we would cut and glue until our fingers stuck together and we had glitter in our hair. Not once did we ever go out to the store and buy a pack of Valentines. No matter how many kids were in my class, I would sit down with my mom and decide what it was we were going to make. I always loved the gluey part of Valentine’s Day.
This week I found out that we are no longer going to get mail on Saturday. Most of New York City rolled their eyes at the system, shrugged, and then hailed a cab. But for some reason I felt really bad about it. I am not one to get a ton of mail, but it is the possibility, the anticipation behind waiting, the hope that I could get mail–just maybe. To be honest, I send more snail mail now than I ever did before, and I love it. No matter what people say about email, there is practically nothing better than a hand written note. A long time family friend has been sending me post it notes filled with positive energy all winter. A friend from the sea has been sending me snail since we arrived back on land almost three years ago, and my mom takes that cake for most handwritten notes and care packages filled with good juju and love.
I live in a house that is filled with handwritten notes and reminders and I love it. This week, our toaster died and when I went into the kitchen it was sitting on the counter with a sign that said R.I.P. Sometimes, when I get home really late, there will be a sign with an arrow pointing to the kitchen that reads hot cider on the stove, help your self.
My hearts were a hit–all 25 of them. And as I walked home last night I saw The Empire State Building illuminated in a rosy pink glow that filled the city with love, and came home to a small hand written note taped to my door.
This cup is for Mel–thank you for being my Valentine
And to Twin (my forever pen pal), Caitlin and Nancy (for all the notes)
And to my Mom (you know why)
Happy Valentine’s Day