I sometimes think I was born in the wrong era. I'm by no means a technophobe or opposed in anyway to the advancements the world has made thanks to technology but sometimes just sometimes I wish I lived in a less technical time. A more old fashioned era.
I watch my grey-bearded-yellow-visibility-uniformed-scooter-riding-Postie deliver post to us today. I'm still one of those folk who get excited when mail is delivered. Actually, even when I hear the familiar PING on my phone to announce I have a new email. Yet, all I seem to find in my postbox these days is bills, flyers for services I don't need, adverts for food I don't eat and more bills. It makes me feel nostalgic for times gone by where a trip to the Postbox would sometimes be a joyous occasion - a letter from family, a friend or lover; or even better a parcel.
I'm grateful for the snippets of news and photos I see posted by friends and family on Facebook. It makes me feel connected to them, especially those back in South Africa, and I'm happy I get to see the parts of their lives they choose to share on Facebook. I miss the details though. Details that only a personal letter would provide.
My dear departed Ouma, was a great letter writer and probably the last person I've received a hand written letter from. She always wrote on that fancy white writing paper. You know the kind I mean. It crackles. One of my best friends, Debbie - and the one person out of everyone I know who has seen more of the world than any other person I know - was a great writer of postcards! I loved postcards! Even though most of the time they arrived weeks after you'd already arrived back from your holiday - I suppose they were an old fashioned version of Instagram. A picture of a place you were that you wanted to show a friend with a short message. Debbie once sent me a postcard of a cow and all the message said was it had reminded her of me. That's just the kind of friends we are.
For all my travelling friends I think you will agree that the best kind of parcel you can receive is a care parcel from home - filled with all the things you miss from home. It is strange what you miss when you are away from your homeland. Luckily, I suppose, nowadays I can find the South African groceries I miss like Nutticrusts and Cream Soda at my local IGA. Still I miss it. A surprise parcel - like the kind my friend in Melbourne sent me - can really brighten your day.
So friends and family if you haven't realised by now this post if basically one giant hint that I want mail! Write to me in whatever form you choose. I want to see my mailbox full! I want to hear PING, PING, PING all day long. I promise in return to write back.