My sister’s birthday was, uh, last month. So last week, I finally mailed her gift. It fit in a regular envelope. Saturday, it came back to me in the form of returned mail: INSUFFICINENT ADDRESS. What was so insufficient? Nope, it wasn’t that I left a number out of the zipcode or the house number off. It was that I wrote no address on it whatsoever. This reminds me of the thank you notes that I tried to mail for several days in a row last November and couldn’t figure out why the postal worker wouldn’t just pick them up. Oh, because they lacked stamps. Well, this time I managed a stamp. I even managed a return address sticker (which is the only reason why the darn thing came back to me). I just couldn’t manage an address.
If there was ever a sign that I am beyond capacity, that there is too much on my lists, that I am pushing a little too fast without the speed to back it up, not writing an address on my sister’s late birthday card- an address I know by heart- might just be it. My little mail errors are just symptoms of the madness that I feel like I’ve lived in since my dad got so, so sick. And it’s not that his continued recovery is the only thing on my mind of late; it is that his recovery is now just one piece of an overall puzzle that has lots of big questions and curveballs that have come to the surface in the new year. Here’s hoping that answers to the biggest questions and solutions to the biggest problems will soon find their way home so we can celebrate birthdays on time and with gifts around here, at the very least. Because I am, afterall, a girl who likes to not only have her cake but on time, too.