The first piece of mail I ever received from my friend Kiera Coffee was a clear, stamped bag of fall leaves (plus a deflated balloon), collected from the park where we had recently met for a walk. There was no note — and, really, the package didn’t require one. It was funnier and more impactful on its own.
Over the years I’ve known her, she’s continued to mail me odd little surprises, as she does with all her friends (see the current issue for her wonderful essay on this tradition).
I’ve received, for instance, a piece of bark, a comic-strip envelope, and six crayons taped together.
Some of these items make reference to something we’ve done or talked about. Some — delightfully — make no sense at all.
And when I get, say, a toy animal with stamps tied to its tail, the absurdity of receiving such a thing through the mail always makes my day.