"My Drawer" ....

Upon my arrival home from work this evening - I meandered to my mailbox, absent-mindedly removing the contents. As I walked back towards the breezeway, my eyes fell on an envelope in my hand. A hand-written address - not typed. Postage stamps, not metered or Bulk Mail. Another entry for "my drawer."

Inside the envelope was a photograph of a three year old boy, Simon, and two paintings he created. My favorite of the two shown above on the left. The pieces are Simon's thank you for a day spent together at my house. New entries for "my drawer."

"My drawer"? Yes, "my drawer." I deeply treasure the cards and letters I receive in my mailbox. Now, even more so, since the evolution of the computer/email. Each piece is a labor of love. Evidence that someone has taken the time and thought to put pen to paper; to lick and to seal. Words of thanks, words of wishes, words of friendship, words of love, words of sorrow. A treasure that can be held .. as it was held by the person who sent it. A tangible message. Each as unique as the handwriting upon it.

The oldest entry in "my drawer" arrived in the mail 27 years ago, written on a 3 foot piece of adding machine tape. It provided a unique, vivid picture of the unique, vivid person who wrote it and sent it. It was a labor of love. The only other piece of mail I have from that person was in 1993, a postcard .. which he always referred to as "penny postcards" ... clearly a term from his youth.

Shown is a sampling of items, of mail, cards and letters, from "my drawer." My thanks to Eileen, Rose, Joyce, Maureen, Lucy, Kerri, Kathleen, Diane, Kevin, Lisa, Sharon, Minnie, Joe, Sandy, Alice and .... to all those in my life, past and present, who have taken the time to create an entry for "my drawer." You have given me a treasure. One I can hold. One that keeps memories alive. One I will keep for the rest of my days.

There is no picture of "my drawer," a long narrow wooden fixture in an antique piece of oak furniture. The narrow drawer, when open, fools the eyes into thinking there is little inside ... but nothing could be further from the truth.