Snail Mail & Small Joys

I have to admit something… I LOVE getting mail. Like, truly love it. Some people check their mailbox once a week. I’m the person who looks forward to it every single day, hoping that there’s something in there for me besides bills and ACE coupons.

There’s just something magical about it. Because let’s be honest... most of life’s happiest announcements tend to show up in your mailbox. Save-the-dates, wedding invitations, thank-you cards, birthday cards, baby announcements, even those slightly chaotic birthday bash invites with glitter falling out of the envelope. Snail mail feels intentional. Someone thought of you, picked out a card, wrote something inside, and sent it out into the world just for you.

Last year, Zach took this obsession to heart. He slipped a Valentine’s card into our own mailbox for me to “find” when I got home. And of course, I cried. It was such a simple gesture, but it meant the world to me. Honestly, it was probably the best Valentine’s gift he’s ever given me.

So, this year I decided to start my own little mission: sending handwritten birthday cards. I’m not perfect at it (if your birthday was in the beginning months of the year… please accept my sincere apologies and maybe a belated card next year), but I’m trying. I want the people I care about to get that same little jolt of joy when they open the mailbox and see something with their name on it.

Yes, cards are overpriced, and don’t even get me started on the cost of stamps. But to me, it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day, we all want to feel remembered. We all want to feel like someone took the time. And sometimes, the simplest things are the most meaningful.

The more I think about it, the more I realize this love of mail connects to a bigger truth about me. I thrive on small, thoughtful details. In my work, in my relationships, in the way I lead. I’m the person who notices when something tiny makes a big difference. And maybe that’s why a handwritten card feels so important. It’s proof that the little things matter.

So, if you get a card from me this year, know that I probably smiled just as big putting it in the mail as you did opening it. And if you don’t… well, maybe 2026 will be your year.

In the meantime, I’ll be the person racing home to check the mailbox like it’s Christmas morning. Because joy doesn’t always come in big, flashy packages. Sometimes it’s a card, an envelope, and a stamp.

Currently licking an envelope closed,

-CC