When I was a kid, mail time was a big deal.  My brothers and I would go walking down our driveway with Mom, out towards the main road.  We weren’t allowed to cross the road by ourselves for a long time, as the mailbox was located in a curve on a road where folks liked to test the speed limit.  Mom usually made us, and whatever dog(s) accompanying us, wait for her while she crossed the road to retrieve the mail.  When she returned with her arms full of bills, circulars, magazines, and letters, it was as if she brought missives from another world.  I always liked to go through the mail on the kitchen counter, sorting it into piles for mom, for dad, for firestarter.  Sometimes there would be a letter for me, from my best friend – we’ve been writing letters to each other since we were old enough to sign our names.  Sometimes there would be a Sears catalog, and I would spend hours flipping through the shiny pages, making Santa’s Wish List.

Going to get the mail in Babb is not nearly as much fun.  There’s no rural delivery here, the post office’s hours are not extensive, and the drive into Babb and back generally eats up about 1/2 hour out of the day, as there is always someone to visit with at the post office.  On days when I go to work in Cut Bank, I often leave before the post office opens and return after it closes, so I don’t get the mail every day.  There’s generally a huge pile of bills, insurance information, and credit card solicitations awaiting me at the post office.  But occasionally, there is a letter from my best friend, a postcard from my grandma, or even better, a package with contents unordered by and unknown to me.  That happened last week, when I went to the post office to get the mail that had accumulated while I’d been in California.  I opened up an oversized mailer to find this:

Isn’t this darling?  I searched for a note revealing the kind sender’s identity, but to no avail.  I knew the gifter knew me well, what with the t-shirt being in my favored shade of chocolate brown.  So I took to Twitter to ask the internets who had gifted me.  And it didn’t take long until I found out that my dear friend Layla Jane was the thoughtful sender.  I like this t-shirt almost as much as I love LJ.  Give bees, and peace, a chance, y’all.  And send more personal mail.

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