Letters

I am used to getting bills in the mail,
asking me for money.
I expect bills -
they are a part of life.
I am used to getting notifications in the mail,
telling me what I owe the government;
the sum is always too much to comprehend
and so I set these pieces aside,
knowing they are part of my life.
Just when I think
that the only people who send me things
are those who want something from me,
I get a letter.
A letter that gives.
Letters give me voices of people I care about,
they give me words;
words that were found and written
just for me.
I settle into letters
the way you sink into a plush sofa
at the end of a long workday.
And letters have that funny quality
of being here-and-now and past-and-back-then
at the same time;
physical mementos of virtual conversations,
hugs and laughs shared on paper.
I may get tens of thousands of bills in a lifetime,
or hundreds of notifications,
but even if I could count on fingers and toes
all the letters I will get,
they are, quite singlehandedly,
the only reason I see fit
to own a mailbox.