Today I returned from using the restroom to find a package on my desk.
Yippeee… It’s Christmas Eve and I got mail.
Mails seems to only appear when I am not at my desk, I wonder who brings it by.
As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was and who it was from.
We’ve been talking about it for a couple weeks, maybe even months.
My sister’s first published book of poetry. She wanted to send it to me, I told her it would be ok for it to wait until I returned to the States to pick it up myself. It would cost lots of money to FedEx it 5,000 miles around the world. It would take too long by USPS.
Nope, it’s already in the mail. $5.22. Postage on the front, customs form on the back.
I hate poetry. I don’t think I have EVER voluntarily read poetry in my life. I feel silly reading nursery rhymes to my kids. I know the terms from English class years ago, iambic pentameter, couplet, sonnet, haiku.
But, I read every page, every sentence, every word.
Thanks for sending me something to open, something to read, something to remember how wonderful a writer and poet and person you love.
I love you, Elizabeth.