When I moved back to Charlotte last year, I made a decision that felt both sentimental and necessary: I chose to keep the post office box that my dad had for as long as I can remember. Sure, I have a mailbox at the trailer park, but that post office box felt like a special link to my dad, who passed away from Covid in 2021.
Every Saturday after breakfast at Big Boy, my dad would hand me the key, and I’d dash up the stairs, excitement bubbling inside me as I anticipated the treasure of letters and packages waiting for us. Those cherished memories made me want to hold onto the box, especially since it’s been in the Winters family for so long. The laughter and warmth of those weekends linger in my heart, reminding me of the bond we shared.
Recently, I found myself grappling with the idea of giving it up. On the surface, it made sense; I already had a mailbox, and letting go of the box would save me some money. But today, when I walked into the post office, armed with the mail forward form and the key, I felt a wave of hesitation wash over me. The moment I stood there, ready to cancel it, I realized that this box was a part of my dad’s legacy. Once I let it go, it would be gone for good, replaced by someone else, and I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
It might seem silly to feel so attached to a post office box, but it represents so much more than just a place to receive mail. It embodies the love, laughter, and lessons my dad instilled in me. In a world that often feels transient, this box is a piece of permanence, a connection to my roots, and a way to keep my dad’s memory alive. So for now, I’ll hold on to it tightly, knowing that it’s not just about the mail; it’s about honoring the past and cherishing the love that will always remain in my heart.
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