The joy of being invalidated

People who know me well know that I love to make wishes — on stars, eyelashes, at 11:11 — anything will do. It’s not so much the expectation that something will happen so much as the act of wishing itself that makes me happy. As someone once said to me, it feels good to be honest about what you want.

Erica recently blogged about some care mail she recently received from her mother. Reading it put such a smile on my face, but I’ll be truthful and admit that I also felt twinges of envy and missing-people-sickness. My parents aren’t the type to send me mail.

Just before I could indulge in wallowing for long, though, look what I found!

London postcard of yellow car

Postcard from London

A friend who just moved from Toronto to London thought of me about a month ago. Except I didn’t really catch that thought until today because I get mail so infrequently that I only check my letterbox about once a month. And I only checked it tonight because I felt like wallowing and wanted evidence to back me up. Oops. Guess I’ll be doing a happy dance instead.

Not so secretly, I like it much better this way. This made my day. Thank you. ♥

Comments are closed.