Understanding is a matter of relating.

Creativity was her name. I had the mailbox next to her. We were the type of people who were only momentary acquaintances. She checking her mail, me checking mine.She would say hello to me and I would immediately look down and mumble some response. She always had a letter to send and one to receive. they were beautiful letters with curly, long scrolling hand writing and pet names such as "darlinch" or "heart shaped muffin". Every day I would check my mail at the exact same time. three-ish, because I had devised that the mail man came around two and so three would give him time..providing he was late. It was 3:04 and I was checking my grey mailbox, with the red tab. Unconcerned with the surrounding neighborhood or the other boxes in the line.I was inspecting to futile mail I had received and noticing that my mail box needed to be repainted but I wasn't sure when I was going to be able to do this- with work and my cat I was a very busy individual. Inspecting the chipped door, when she walked up. In a graceful manor always bringing a lighter feeling with her, like that she lifted something away from a person. A scarf tied in her hair was the same color as her mail box a bright teal. I wondered if a person like her chose to match her mood with her box, or if she was always bright and cheerful. She must be always cheerful, her box was always full. Once Curiosity had gotten to me and I decided to peak in her box and sure enough it was filled with wonderful correspondence. From who did the letters come from? I wrote my friends and family and only received bills in return or short typed messages saying something to the effect of "having a great time..wish you were here...how is work..love..". I even went to the extent of trying a beautifully crafted letter, where I did my best to add bright colors and swirls, but as I approached the mail box I saw hers and somehow mine seemed grey and dull. It was like she was more of a person than eye was.