You Got Mail

Salt Lake City, July 2014

Growing up, getting the mail was a big deal. My brother and I would race down after “it”came and tried to get there first and be the one to carry “it” up to the house. It was a sacred daily ritual. When a holiday came – we would morn. Up until I moved away (and when I am back home) I cherished my walk down to the mail box. I love that walk!

I have a new walk now, it's not as pretty and I never get to feel the outside and enjoy being outside. But it's a walk to get our mail. First I open our door with my set of keys in my hand. I step out and close and lock the door behind me. I walk down the hall way to the elevator (someday I will write an ode to the elevator), open the door, walk in, close the door, and press 1. Down I go. The elevator stops. I open the door and get out. (bored yet?) The mail boxes are located in the lobby. Our little box is 611. I put my key in and pray there is something interesting and open it.

One day there was just a key in our box. On it was written “Locker 2”. There are two lockers that keep packages. So awesome! That day the package was from Popsie and the return address was Gallifrey.

 The long hallway in our old apartment building.