Country Road
There’s something about having to leave your house and walk down a long path lined with grass and wildflowers to squeak open the door of your mailbox, something about that brief journey from an inner sanctum to a connection point with the rest of the world, that is very different from the hurried, key-fiddling, grocery-juggling dance of mail checking most urban dwellers go through on the way in or out of the apartment to get to somewhere else.
A mailbox on a country road is like a hand extended in friendship; it is a small unlocked door through which the world may enter. It waits, in patient expectation, for what may come.
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