A plain white envelope with handwritten addresses. My name in black ink brought a little smile to my lips. Real mail, not bills or advertisements or junk, always makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up with a pleasurable tingle. Even better was seeing my friend Maureen's name in the return address. My hands were full of envelopes, but I was able to press the envelope between my fingertips, an action that... Read more →