one of my favorite solo-sunday activities is browsing my local antique store. i find comfort there, like i am among lost friends who still know me through and through. there is just something about being surrounded by unknown people's objects-- some deemed special, others collecting dust in a box-- that makes my own heart flutter with curiosity. i am quite nosey deep down, but describing yourself as 'curious' makes people not turn heads as quick as 'nosey' does. there is one corner i always make my feet go somehow: a small wooden box that is filled to the brim with used postcards. letters from friends and loved ones lie in traces on the back between a stamp and quickly written address. what is it about an unknown person's short, often mundane notes that is so dear to me? it is the curiosity of it all? the game-like attitude i encompass as i try to distinguished imperfect mark from imperfect mark? or is it the fact that i am holding a piece of someone's life in my hand? a life no less precious than my own, yet i flip through the outdated remnants like switching gears in the car-- mindless and routine. maybe we hold those we physically encounter with the same attitude we obtain holding a slip of paper. for like a forgotten postcard, we are all crumpled, torn, sometimes ripped in half and mended with tape. yet we are both equally special, worthy and yearning for someone to pick us up from a hidden box among a crowd and read what we have to say.
i spent a total of $5 that sunday afternoon between four lonely postcards. now they are claimed and posted on my wall secured by golden paperclips and comforted amidst my own traces of life waiting to be found by another curious soul.
i do not think we show enough interest in the lives of what i like to call "our people". meaning family, coworkers, and friends we talk to almost everyday. when people become constant in our lives, it is easy for them to become devalued just as quick. we stop asking questions. we brush over the initial small talk like a pro. we even quit looking them in the eye when we talk to them. it is so easy to pick up the phone and scroll endlessly on social media instead of showing authentic interest in who is right in front of us. it is so easy to forget that sometimes it is those closest to us that need us the most. and, it is so easy to take for granted what has been carefully placed in our lives at the moment. it is easy because it is natural. yet, doing the unnatural is where true love lies. genuine love belongs to those who give without expecting any return, listen without their mind wondering, and sacrifice selflessly for the sake of someone else.
what would our lives look like if we took genuine interest in those we encounter on a regular basis?