As the holidays approach, I string a piece of twine from one wall sconce to another in my kitchen. It’s a strange look at first, but it holds the promise of things to come.
Holiday cards are easy to mock. They’re expensive, especially if you are sending the 6-inch by 8-inch tri-fold, foil-stamped cards. They sometimes require too much preparation: I know a family that hires hair and makeup help before taking their group portrait. And they often give us more information than we need (Uncle Randy and Aunt Ethel’s swimsuit picture might not be their best look).
But cards remain one of my favorite things about the holidays. And when they arrive, I display them lovingly with clothespins on that simple piece of twine.
I’m a snail-mail lover at heart, so it’s no surprise I take pleasure in sending my own cards. I write every address by hand with my favorite silver pen. I refuse to download addresses electronically to print labels. I let my son choose a sticker and stamp for each card — am I the only person who misses the bitter taste of lickable postage stamps? — and I take great joy in writing a few words to each loved one, wishing them so much more than “happy holidays.”
Every year gives me the opportunity to reflect on the abundance and blessings of family and friends. My old address book, tattered and torn from years of use, serves as a diary of years past. It has recorded the many moves and name changes of loved ones through the years. It also holds new contact information for folks I’ve befriended since last New Year, as well as names of friends whom I’ve lost.
I plan to send about 75 cards this year. I wasn’t sure for a while which card I’d send, but I was confident that I’d expand my list. This year, I’m committed to sending a few extra cards to those Upper Valley folks who have provided exceptional service, exceptional support and exceptional surprises. The ob-gyn staff at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center will receive a holiday card, thanking them for the best gift of the year — my baby girl. My favorite pizza shop will receive a card, thanking them for my Friday night meals. And a secret someone will receive a note, thanking her for always bringing a smile to the service counter of an otherwise not-so-friendly local business.
Of course, receiving cards is equally enjoyable. For years, I’ve enjoyed the barrage of mail this time of year. When I was younger, I’d wait with bated breath to read if my crush signed off with “love.” Pre-Facebook, I’d delight to hear from globe-trotting Mandy to know if she settled in San Diego or Singapore. As a newlywed, I enjoyed introducing my husband, card by card, to the people who shaped my life.
And now, as a mom, I look forward to watching my son rip open cards while we’re still in the driveway. (It’s impossible to contain a 2-year-old with an envelope in his hand.)
Each card will tell a distinct story. His little fingers will point to pictures of friends and family, Christmas trees and dreidels. We’ll chat about people he knows, people he’ll someday know, and people he’ll never know. The senders will never know it, but they will provide plenty of mother-son banter as we trek back from the mailbox.
As December winds on, my house will be filled with competing attractions. The Christmas tree will light up the living room. Stockings will add color to our fireplace. The gingerbread house will sweeten the kitchen. But the showstopper of the holiday season will remain our greeting card collection.
A simple piece of twine will become a fantastic display of the people we love.
Becky Sabky lives in Norwich.