A Real Mailbox

This afternoon Ava asked me the same question she asks every afternoon around 3pm: "Mom, can I go check the mail PLEASE??" Checking the mailbox at the end of our driveway has become a very exciting job for my 5-year-old. She skips down the driveway by herself (I always watch from the kitchen window), steps up onto the stone in front of the mailbox, grabs all the mail very unceremoniously, and trots back toward the house, usually having to pick up at least one or two pieces of mail along the way. This is the first house we've ever lived in to have a REAL mailbox - our apartment in Virginia Beach had boxes inside the front door to the building, and in Aransas Pass and Alexandria we had mailboxes at the end of the street. Watching Ava reminds me of many a day when I would get the mail as a kid. Like me, Ava very rarely receives anything for herself (typically just a magazine once a month), but there was always something exciting about going to pick up the mail, just to see what might be inside. I am so glad that tradition is being passed down another generation. Just one more reason I am so thankful we have this house and all the gifts it continues to inadvertently give us.