Recently, Herself and Offspring the Third were returning home from errand, when they spotted this bird strolling along the sidewalk. Herself quickly pulled over the car, and Offspring the Third hopped out to take a picture. He was unable to get terribly close to the bird, for it waddled quickly up the walk to a house and hid. They were unsure how the paper was actually attached; however, the bird did not seem to be in any distress. Perhaps it was on a mission? Herself was reminded a bit of the Owl Post in the Harry Potter universe. Pigeon Post, perhaps.
Letter-writing: a nearly lost art. Herself thinks back to the days when she wrote letters. She enjoyed the ritual - selecting the right stationery or the right card; priming the pen on a scrap of paper; composing and inscribing her thoughts of the moment; re-reading the final words; sealing the envelope; placing the stamp; dropping the missive into a blue mailbox by the side of the road, or slipping it into the slot in the post office. Imagining the time when the receiver would discover the letter among the bills and miscellaneous mail, and hold it thoughtfully, anticipating, for an instant or two before beginning to read it.
Perhaps she will begin writing letters again.
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