Of Note

I received a truly lovely thank you note in the mail today. You know the kind that come on a personalized note card reminding you that you’ve made a friend far above your station. I LOVE personalized note cards, envelopes and the like. They ooze sophistication, thoughtfulness, and a grown up priority list that includes things to do like “order personalized note cards.”

The only personalized anything I use these days are those free return address labels you get in the mail. Of course, they’re not supposed to be free. My stack of poorly designed stickers was offered in exchange for and in expectation of a donation—to a children’s hospital, to breast cancer research , to the Audubon Society. Quite sadly, although I liberally use the labels to assure the safe voyage of such important matters as keeping the lights on and the house warm, I’ve never sent a donation. It’s the worst kind of karma, really.

Today, though, I am inspired. I am a grown up after all. Securely in my thirties with three kids and some degrees collected over the years to show for it, I think it’s time I ordered some more demur stationary supplies. Of course you’re probably thinking, “Maybe then I will get the thank you note she owes me from last October.” And you would be right. I think about the hundreds of thank yous I owe you nearly every day—the weight of my social thanking responsibilities often gives me a heavy heart. So tonight I will carefully select a note card and design that speaks to the gratefulness and joy I hope to relate and will then start to put to paper the thanks that I’ve recited in my head for you again and again. You know who you are. Watch your mailbox.