Saga Of The Address Box

I love Postcrossing.

It’s one of those loves that doesn’t really hit you too strong, but it deepens like a strong coffee going down your throat. I have always loved to travel and see the world. Postcrossing helped me realize that in a small way. Every postcard I wrote or received felt like I was opening a small tiny window into a different part of earth.

Sometimes, same country, but different towns.

At times, different characters living in same towns. And yet other times, different countries housing similar characters and the combinations are endless.

Today is World Postcard Day. The day just started last year in 2019, and already it feels like a hashtag that has been there since the internet started. I was determined to make the day count, and so set about getting a few addresses from the website. There was a lady in Russia who loved the sea and sheep alike, a gentlemen in Ukraine who retired at the edge of a forest, a young one in Ukraine who loved all things medical, a Finn who immigrated to Utah as a nurse and crochets in her free time and a grandmom of 7 who loves to collect flags.

As am now habituated, I went about it methodically. Get an address, read the profile, go over my postcards, find something suitable, add the address and my note, stick tape over the IDs and the address and move on to the next address.

Except that the Russian one had a second address in their script. It’s common practice to give an alternate address the local language(script) where the national/official language isn’t English. I decided to print it and so pushed it to the end. Wrapped all of the 5 postcards, made myself a cup of tea and as it was almost 4.45. pm, I dashed to the PO. I drove by the mailbox, stuffed the postcards in (there is a whole story to the stuffing that I hope to get to at some point) and headed home. The PO is exactly 2 miles away but I do have to cross 3 traffic lights, and while I was almost home I remembered it!

I took a U-turn, parked my car, sheepishly narrated my faux pas amidst a few giggles from all around me including the kind shy middle aged skinny Asian postal clerk, who rarely smiles, but was now guffawing loudly must to my embarrassed amusement. The manager comes in, hears my predicament, also shakes her head, and am sure silently filing this story to regale at dinner time, motions me to wait near the mailbox while she sends in someone to rescue me.

I hurry out, dodging the slight raindrops, and wave frantically at the confused clerk already at the drive by mailbox. It’s a 5*7 postcard with a Virginia Lighthouse, and with lightning speed she pulls it out like a magician and with not a second to lose, I rush home.

This makes me wonder at the larger sign of it all.

How many of us are these beautiful gorgeous postcards, with vivid stories to tell, words and visuals balancing each other and yet, so many of us do not reach our destination? Sometimes, we don’t know our addresses. At times, we forget where we are going, and at other times, we get lost as the address washes off. How many of us wait to be bailed out, and yet how many manage to reach their place despite it all.

I hope we all have our addresses neat and printed in our minds. Coz no matter the intent, beauty and content within us, if we don’t have that box filled, we don’t really go anywhere. And neither can postcrossing help!

..and with that, I am back to blogging or at least I hope I am back to blogging. Fingers crossed that this blog address is neatly printed in my mind and I stay on in the journey.