Apr. 28th - The Day I Was Hit With A Blast 💥

From the past that is.

Photo Credit: Public Domain

What a busy day it's been today. A morning spent working on crafting designs, an afternoon spent having lunch with a close friend (as well as some shopping...of course!), and the early evening hours spent designing and crafting a project for some very dear friends. In the midst of all those activities I did manage to find a few moments to scroll through my Facebook page, and in doing so I stumbled across a photo which brought many past memories flooding back. In case you are not familiar with the items shown in the photo, please allow me to explain...they are doors from post office boxes...very old post office boxes. When I was a child growing up in a very small town in New England our mail was delivered to the post office (located in the back room of the post master's home) in the town square whose boxes had these same doors. I can even remember the number of our post office box...1204. They were opened by using the dial to enter a combination that would then release the handle to turn the lock (if you were lucky that is...those dials were not the most accurate and would usually require repeated attempts to release the lock). Our town being as small as it was meant most everyone knew each other or, at the very least, knew a family member of everyone they met. That would be why my mother and the post master were friends, and I can remember many an afternoon spent at the post master's home. It was not unusual for her to allow me to "help her out" by sorting the mail and putting it into people's post office boxes. Looking back now I know it was mainly an attempt to keep an inquisitive child occupied (the mail I was given to help sort was always "junk mail") so she and my mother could enjoy an afternoon visit. Whether it was busy work or not made no difference to me at the time...I felt I was doing something important and being helpful, and that is all that truly mattered. Reliving those memories brought me the same happiness I felt as a child when I was "helping out", making what had already been an exceptionally good day even better. Childhood memories can be some of our fondest, and I hope my story may help you to recall yours.

Blessings, Candi 💕