Ode to Sotong....

I got something in the mail today.

A real piece of mail. Which came in a brown envelope, with my name and address hand-written, albeit scribbly-ly, on the front.

The kind which you tear apart to get to the contents inside.

It came as a real nice surprise really. Besides bills and more bills, I hardly get mail that comes in envelopes anymore.

I was able to recognise the hand-writing as well as the sender's address on the envelope. It was definitely Sotong who was writing from UK. But it was a nice feeling which I hardly get anymore nowadays; a kind of excitement and anticipation, even though I knew who the sender was, wondering what the envelope contained.

It could be a nice long hand-written letter, which means some hours spent trying to decipher Sotong's handwriting. Or it could be a lock of her hair. Or maybe some vitamin C tablets. One never knows, when it comes to Sotong. She could have been using the envelope to contained her nail clippings when she trimmed her fingernails, and decides, on impulse, to send it across an entire ocean, to me.

But I hardly get mail anymore. So I would have been happy to receive anything. Even vitamin C tablets. Maybe not so much the nail clippings. But the nice girl that she is, she sent me a little gift, a little butterfly brooch.

With it was a little note, in her hand-writing, that I still recognise after all these years, "Yoohoo! Don't know who to thank for your writing talent. Keep it up and be happy." Short, to the point, and very sweet.

Sotong is tall, to the point, and very sweet.

And she knows, that despite my succintness and apparent lack of intense emotion, that I'm really very touched by, her efforts at actually sending me something via snail mail.

Thank you Sotong, for remembering me. *Long distance hug and kiss*

Thank goodness you're not here. I wouldn't want to get all weepy and mushy in front of you. That'll have been so embarrassing, and so weird.