Journeys to the Mailbox

I don’t have mailbox. Neither do my neighbors. Instead, our street has a centrally located bank of mailboxes at the turn-in. It’s about two hundred yards from my door. For someone who runs ten miles every other day, the stretch of pavement that separates me from my post is painfully modest. Nonetheless, it’s clear I get the mail much less frequently than I used to when I had only to reach out my front door to the box that was attached to my siding. In the spirit of cultivating a new tradition—a habit I can share with my dogs, whereupon I will regale them with my observations of the weather or my neighbors’ doings—I intend to make the time to journey from my at-home office to the post box each day.