Stationery card

Jolly Holly Stripes Christmas Card

Turn your favorite photos into personalized Christmas cards.

View the entire collection of cards.

A Mail Box

Some things in life are perfectly reason-less to have. Some things are definitely must-haves.

And then there are things that fall in between.

Living in America forces citizens to have a mailing address. Thus necessitating a mail box or a P.O. Box. As a citizen who grew up having a mailbox at the end of her driveway that she could walk to each day, I merely assumed that I would have one of America’s greatest inventions (as I see it as such) as an adult.

Wrong. Unfortunately, where we live, my husband believes mailboxes are pointless investments as it’s been his experience that they only get knocked down.

Knowing this doesn’t change the fact that I want a mailbox. A P.O. Box has served us fine except for the aggravation of having to leave our property to go and retrieve any mail (and the further aggravation upon arriving at said box and not having ANY mail at all to get if nothing is in our box). But for all intents and purposes, the P.O. Box is fine. It just doesn’t cover all I want.

Even on the days I was sicker than sick, going to get the mail was a welcome reprieve short bit of exercise. It gave me a purpose. A reason to get up and at least get out for a little bit in the sunshine without requiring great amounts of energy. It was also a privilege of mine to go and get the mail. Almost as special as being allowed to drive, being allowed to get the mail was the next best thing.

I felt so alive. So grown up. So…purposeful. There I was. Setting out on the journey to what could be almost anything imaginable. Fake Disney tickets trying to bribe us to come there. Checks. Cards. Gifts. Pictures. Scholarships. At the end of my walk, anything could be waiting. Crisp Winter air. Crunching over pebbles slurping a Push-Up during the harsh heat of Summer. Fall with its leaves swirling around. I'd walk through it all to get to that dome-shaped box.

And yes, I realize (you haters of mailboxes) that “anything” now waits at the end of the drive. But it’s the idea. I have to drive. No exercise. Go into a public place with many germs. Hope to heavens I remembered my key, find our box, also  hope to heaven that I haven’t made the trip for nothing, etc. And then, if there’s bad news waiting in the box, I still have to make the drive home. Or on the other hand, if it’s the best news of my life, I can’t run back to our house as quickly as I can to share the news.

A P.O. Box is a chore. Not a privilege.

I know my husband’s right. We shouldn’t get a mailbox only to have it torn down. They’re expensive. And I’d be super upset if it were to be knocked down.

But it doesn’t mean I don’t want one perhaps only for the memories it brings, the exercise required, and the undeniable joy I get from walking to and from it each day.

Stationery card

Jolly Holly Stripes Christmas Card

Click here to browse our Christmas photo card designs.

View the entire collection of cards.

Reasons…

In my world, no one does something without a reason. And if you don’t tell me the reason for doing something, I will make up a suitable reason for you. And even if you do provide a reason for your action (or inaction), I will second guess and evaluate and analyze that reason’s validity.

You see, I want to be really sure your reason is true. You may say it’s one thing and in reality, your reason is another. And you may not intend to lie about your reason, but the end result is the same. Your reason you verbally stated is not actually your reason.

Thus, the precedent is set—I must evaluate any and all reasons, for I, the great Jessica, could very well uncover the true reason for what you have done or not done. I could unravel your life or put it all back together by this one revelation.

It’s important, people. Very very important. So give me your reasons, and I’ll give you my expert opinion on whether or not this is your reason. Or I’ll just make up a reason for you not giving me a reason.

I hope you know…

How much I love you.

How much you’re involved in every thought I have.

The lengths I’d go to make you happy.

The amount of respect and adoration I hold for you.

The way my heart sighs when you look at me like I’m your whole world.

That I fight with everything I have to be better because you’re so great.

That I’d turn the whole world over to look for you if you ever decide to leave.

That I appreciate you and the little things you do more than any words I could string together.

That you make me believe in love and happiness.

I never knew how there could possibly be someone who’d be my soul mate, lover, and best friend all wrapped in one who could match me as perfectly as you do.

I notice everything you say even if you don’t think I do.

I am terrible at making decisions only because I want the very best for you and doubt myself at every turn because you deserve much more than I can ever give.

I am exuberantly grateful that your choice was me.

I often think about my checklist I made to God before ever entertaining the thought of you as mine, simply because my checks outnumber the things on that list…you’re everything I asked for and so very much more.

I love you. Now, and for the rest of my life.

I didn’t tell you…

I didn’t tell you that today my stomach hurt so bad I could barely breathe for about 45 second intervals. Or that I don’t know the cause of it.

I didn’t tell you that my personality is tough to shape into a marriage as it is a head-strong, my-way-or-no-way type. But I’m working everyday to mold it.

I didn’t tell you that sometimes, I sit in the quiet…oh. wait. I hardly every sit. Which brings me to my point.

I didn’t tell you that I am never inspired to write anymore. In fact, everyday, my fingers ache to write something new. Something I found. Something I feel. Something I think. Something I know.

I just didn’t tell you that there’s hardly ever time for me to write right at this moment in life.

I didn’t tell you that I’m cool with that. With bottling it up and then letting it flow like a torrent at times like this. Making my fingers become so tired and weary from typing so quickly that it feels like they will just seize up.

I just didn’t tell you.