I love getting mail.
When I visit my postbox each week I come home with strange volumes various publishers have sent in for review, announcements for rare manuscripts about to be published, and the occasional thank you letter from an author for a review they particularly liked.
I even love getting the mail at home, though most of what I get tends to be junk mail and bills, sometimes I get a rejection letter or two. Acceptance letters make my heart race. Cheques are my favourite.
I still get mail for the family who used to live here five and half years ago. Often from the same organizations whom I dutifully mark “return to sender”. That’s kind of annoying, but on a slow mail day, I’ll take what I can get.
Recently I found a postcard signed by…well, my best guess is DDM? I don’t think I know anyone with those initials. The stamp is American, which should offer a clue, yet I’m still at a loss. The postcard was sent to my home address, and I only use that with friends and family, so I doubt it could be from an author I’m not close with, yet I can’t think who it might be.
It’s addressed to me, and thanks me for my support with three enthusiastic exclamation points. Support for what? I have no idea.
Thanks for the lovely postcard, DDM, whoever you are, and you’re most welcome for whatever I’ve done that’s worth thanking.
The postcard is now affixed to my fridge with a Merlyn-shaped clip. I’ve friends coming over on the weekend. We’ll see if this mystery can be solved yet.
