i have been one of the postal services biggest fan. for years. ive sent love letters, mothers day cards, pretty little nothings, fairy stories, thin volumes of poetry – anything that could fit into a standard sized envelope. ive sent mail to friends, to lovers, to friends who are in love, to friends who need my love to get over a yucky love. ive sent mail – just because.
because i love that feeling. of getting something in the post and knowing its for you. that someone has written your name on an envelope, sealed it and hoped that it reached on time. its one of the best feelings in the world. i keep the envelopes. bright yellow, pale blue, manila brown.
the postal system has never ever failed me. until now. until the day it counts.
ive spent the day taking deep breaths and counting to ten while dealing with postmen. ive then yelled at my dad, cried to my mom. ive sent emails, dialed numbers, taken cabs, and tried to refrain from smoking too much. because my degree, the piece of paper that actually proves that i soldiered through an M.A is gone. to a computer shop with no address or functioning telephone number.
so mister london postman, im going to forget how much i loved you. how many books and letters you stuffed underneath my door. how many parcels from home you left at my lobby. how many bank statements and phone bills you made sure i got on time. just for today, im going to forget all of that.
because you had a degree in your bag for me. and you sent it to a (possibly dead) computer shop.
nice work mister postman. you should be glad – yes, very glad – that im a continent away.