Snail Mail Carries Love

 "We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." 

                                                                                  Anais Nin

I'm sitting at my desk looking at two envelopes. The kind where someone had to go out to a store, look for one they liked and buy. Then take it home, write something, seal it, find a stamp and a post office and mail it.

Yeah, snail mail.

Not quite the Pony Express, but close. The only real difference is the current delivery system doesn't eat hay.   

I have them propped at the back of my desk side by side. They resonate love, and I'm a sucker for that. And the willingness to go to all that trouble to send me their love in a card, and I'm a sucker for that, too. Emails aren't at all the same thing. Both have return addresses, so I know the pink one is from my brother and yellow from my sister. I am faintly surprised that my handprinted name, juxtaposed so closely together, is remarkably similar. Endearingly, they both included my middle name. Only two others still living do that: my sons.
 
Just a few weeks ago, I had all my family with me, sleeping under my roof for the first time in 20 years. I had the same delicious feeling of peace then. All was right with the world. My family was together with me. Hallelujah.

I have treasured these letters since they arrived, a couple of days apart but both mailed the same day, well ahead of my birthday. Just a year ago things were entirely different. My big sister and I were at odds and my hapless big brother in the middle  trying futilely to make peace. 

At the beginning of the last reunion.

He brokered a sibling summit a few years ago to let go of old grudges, change attitudes and become loving, supportive brother and sisters. For the first couple of days, we enjoyed the mountains, the meals & playing liars dice in the evenings. Then the chip on my shoulder got set off by something my sister said and we were back to belligerence, suspicion and animosity. Sigh.

Then I moved. Not just from Canada to California. Not just from a cave-like basement to a sunny duplex in a community of friendly folks. Or from hermithood to next door to family. I moved my attitude by taking the Landmark Forum the first weekend of 2013. I learned a lot of tools in three days to help explain who and why I was and why I got consistently identical results being who I was; tools I still use to see things as they are and not as I want them to be.    

I saw, suddenly and with horror, how I had treated my sister forever. I cringed that I had unquestioningly bought into a family legend that she was imperfect and troubled that allowed me to treat her with arrogant superiority. 

The instant I saw this revolving scenario of our relationship, I was aghast, ashamed of myself, compassionate toward my sister and grabbed my cell. I blubbered that I was so, so sorry and promised I would never, ever treat her like that again.

Poor soul, she was totally confused at my out-of-the-blue call, dumbfounded by my admission and gobsmacked at my tearful promises.

After a bit, when we'd both calmed down a bit, she thanked me.  "Nobody's ever told me that before," she said.


That hit me between the eyes: What would it be like to always be the bad one. The one who makes the mistakes. The one who fails. The one who needs help. The scapegoat. And I'd bought into it. Little sister with chip firmly on shoulder.

I am forever greatful to Landmark for those three days. It took that long to get over myself, get the concept and move into a new relationship. Suddenly I had the possibility of having a sister. A real one I can call and talk to and who cares. And a brother who doesn't have to be in the middle anymore. The three elders of a family. 

Back to the envelopes. I have gotten cards from my sibs before, but never with the emotional vibes I get with these two. Connection. Love. And anticipation, because we're getting together  next month and are all looking forward to it. 

For the first time in our lives, I believe. 

My birthday is Friday. I get to open the cards and read the words they wrote and chuckle at the clever cards they like to send. 

I may just keep the envelopes on my desk for a while. 

It's never too late to connect.