Mailboxes
Watercolor by Gayle Simpson. To view more of her work, please visit http://www.gaylesimpson.com
Do you ever think about mailboxes? I didn’t until recently.
From this artist’s eye I was drawn into thinking about the “stuff” that comes and goes through the mail.
Did you know the story of the mail service can be traced back to early Egypt? Just Googling “mail service” opens up volumes of historical details about how we have used the written word or mail to communicate.
Electronic mail has become the most dominant way for most of us to contact each other and network in today’s world. But we still rely on snail mail. No matter how you receive your mail, there is often that bit of anticipation, anxiety, or tension as the arrow hovers over the mail icon or the door to the mailbox is opened. What will the mailbox bring us today?
You see them everywhere. The mailbox, whether a physical object or an electronic icon, is a universal symbol of how we connect in our world.
Thinking about mailboxes has brought up all kinds of memories. As a child, I remember watching the mail shoot through the mail slot in the front door. Running to the door, I’d collect the envelopes and magazines as they slipped to the floor. I could see intriguing, colorful stamps as I retrieved all the different parcels. This simple task—getting this stack to my parents—made me feel important! Usually nothing was addressed to me, but on occasion I might receive a postcard from my Aunt Maisie who lived in another city. I would read and reread—treating it like a treasure.
Another mailbox memory carries me back to high school in California. My last two years of high school, I rode a school bus an hour and a half to school. Along with other high schoolers, I caught the first bus at 7:00 AM in front of the village post office. When it was cold or damp, the five of us huddled in this tiny one-room building. Alongside the teller window was a wall lined with little muted-brass mailboxes. Each PO box had a small door with a tiny glass window. Below the window was a keyhole with a number. During the early morning light, we teenagers didn’t think too much about the post office. But later in the day, this tiny room would become the hub of the community. Townspeople would drift in to get their mail and often stop to chat with friends and neighbors before going home with it. What treasures and messages were held in those rectangular locked boxes?
Maybe the mail carries practical messages: a reminder of a task to complete or a meeting to attend, a bill to pay, an advertisement, or a new magazine. There could also be personal mail: cards with birthday greetings or condolences, or a friendly hello in a letter. Each day the mail reminds us of our connection to the outside world. If the box is empty, there could be a feeling of being alone.
Ultimately, my journey of writing The Ribbon Untied began with the letters my husband and I found hidden in a shoebox in the dark corners of a closet. Did the letters to Mary Lou from Charlie fall through a slit in a door or arrive in the mailbox outside?
I find myself wondering if Mary Lou was excited to receive her mail each day. Knowing that the man she loved was at war, she could have felt some anxiety about what the letter would hold. News of the horrors of war was all around. She probably couldn’t escape the images of the injured soldiers she treated in her service at Pearl Harbor. Mary Lou kept those letters a secret all her life!
Whether your mailbox is for electronic messages or snail mail, our call to the mysteries in the mailbox seems to be universal.
Next time you move the little arrow over the mail icon, or tap your screen or lift or pull the door to open your mailbox, I hope you reflect on the power of communication and how we’re all connected. You might even notice mailboxes!
This watercolor was created by my dear friend, Gayle Simpson. She captured this assortment of mailboxes on a country road in a rural Idaho. To view more of her work, please visit http://www.gaylesimpson.com