Snail Mail

In this day and age, I feel like teenagers and kids in general get more excited by the concept of receiving mail just because it’s so much cooler than getting an email. And I was not an exception. When I realized that I could receive actual mail, it was like entering a new world. At the time it made me feel very adult; and I guess that is why I enjoyed the mail system so much when I was younger. But I can disappointedly say that that the world of mail wasn’t all that great.

First of all, I never really received a ton of mail to begin with. Any envelopes with my name on it were usually grades or school programs—which were lame and disinteresting at the time. Even now, I don’t really get many things mailed to me. The only things I can think of are out of school programs, letters from friends, and (annoying yet soul-lifting) college letters that I don’t know what to do with.

You see, in my sixteen years of existing on this beautiful blue (now browning) planet, I can’t say that I have ever received something from the mail that was exceptional. I have never had the sensational bliss of opening a package of clothes/shoes (which is mainly my fault, because I don’t shop online) nor opening a letter from a long forgotten friend who moved to Kenya in fifth grade. While we are on the topic of opening, let me tell you; I almost never open my own mail. Yup, there, I said it. My mom prefers to do it because she’s a bit paranoid and formulates that “there could be a bomb or poisonous gas in it”. She also states there’s a proper way to open mail, which she has not yet demonstrated. Every time she tears through mail, it’s like me tearing through a burrito, so I think that whole “proper opening method” is a bit of a fib.

Anyways, let me back on track. I haven’t received much of mailing for me to consider something memorable. I mean, I could always treasure my 6^th grade report card till the day I die; but that seems rather lame. Now that I think about it, there was this one postcard I received that made it onto the bulletin board above my bed. But it wasn’t technically mailed. It was addressed to me and everything but never sent because my friend just handed it to me when she saw me the next day. The postcard was from the Cuba trip I went on this past summer. It was really fun, and I got to meet a ton of lovely people as well as explore the city (and beaches!) which is a memory I’ll definitely treasure for a long time. So it was nice to have that little memento of our beach frolicking and salsa dancing good times. Like I said before, it wasn’t mailed so technically not mail, but we’ll pretend it was. Except for this one relic, I’d say the mailing system is a pretty lame thing for now ( because I’m not cool enough yet to get cool mail, maybe in 10 years it’ll be baller) and that all the hype is in tearing the envelope. Although I do look forwards to receiving, and properly opening on my own, more (or any) memorable mail from the people in my life. 

Rewind

If you could, would you return to a moment from your past? I feel like that’s a question that hides in the back of everyone’s minds. Slowly creeping from the shadows until it finds an opportunity in the quiet silence to reveal itself. And just like that, it makes you start thinking. Of good moments, of bad ones, funny and even embarrassing ones. But of them all, which one would you re-experience. You and your siblings playing at the indoor community pool? Or your cousins 12^th birthday, when the candles almost slid off the cake and set the whole table aflame?

In my 16 years of life, I can barely recount moments that seemed so important that they’d stick with me for a lifetime. But memories are also a vague thing. For instance, I remember biting my brother’s head while hiding under the dining table. Bizarre isn’t it. That’s one of my oldest memories and a moment I would love to see. Although, I once discussed this with my brother who had no recollection of it at all. Even my mother and father didn’t remember. And it made me think. Was this a moment that actually occurred, or was it fabricated in my head? Slowly conjured up to cover something that didn’t want to be seen. Or was it there to fill a lonely void in the darkness?

 That’s the weird thing about memories, we never know what the complete truth is. By tomorrow, I’ll have a vivid description of these words, these phrases I attentively sprinkled onto a paper. In a couple years, there’s a chance (although very low) that I’ll still remember everything about it. Maybe I’ll remember the color of the sky as I fussed over topics in my head. The pale blue walls that were supposed to stimulate active learning, yet there I was with no ideas on how the heck I would satisfy the prompt. But there is also the possibility that this will be nothing more than an essay. No sentiments or explanations to remind why I wrote it like this. Or maybe I’ll forget the existence of this essay altogether. And that’s the sad thing about it—about memories. You lose those golden feelings in time. You may not completely forget it, but I guarantee you wouldn’t feel it as strongly as you once did.

 Then again, there is a beauty in memories. They’re a security blanket that engulf us at random moments in time. Memories, even the faux memories, recall you with moments of triumph that could ignite a fire of passion in you. They are also the demons that haunt us, that restrict us, for the fear of a relapse, the fear of failure. They stop us from making bad decisions based on previous events, but they also hinder us from reaching our full potential. The fear could holding us back within a good reason but it might also impede us from achieving something incredible.

With this in mind, I don’t know if would return to a moment from my past. The vagueness and uncertainty of memories make me hesitant towards this. But there is also the possibility of re-living ultimate happiness that makes me think it would be worth it. So despite the uncharted territory, I think going back to a moment in my past would be an intriguing experience. 

Non-Fiction Writing

Posts above this will all be for my non-fiction writing class.