I’ve been checking mail for a friend while he’s out of town for a few months. He has a post office box, as do I, even though he’s been living for years in a place where he could receive his mail directly if he wanted to. As have I.
My friend’s reasons for having a post office box aren’t clear to me, but I began renting mine when I moved to Greenville several years ago. The box was necessary to avoid losing mail through what might have become a series of temporary mail forwarding orders.
I felt transient, too. Even after buying the condominium where I’ve lived to this day, it seemed to me that I might be here a few months or I might be here a few years. The post office box became one of my escape hatches.
Today, instead of driving across town to check my friend’s mail, I drove to my own box, and as I was pulling junk mail out of the wall there, I thought, “I really need to get rid of this thing.”
Of course, it would be a bother if I did. I’d spend the better part of a day updating online accounts and downloading forms to fill out and send by snail. But how much more time do I spend each year driving or walking to and from the post office?
My reluctance to migrate might be nothing more than laziness. Or it might be the feeling that, no matter how long I stay here, I’m still about to leave.
I’ve been doing print work for FernCreek Creative for a while now, mostly their Southeastern Children’s Home account. FernCreek is owned by Don & BJ Koonce and, with BJ’s (and my) departure from Centre Stage, FernCreek has begun to occupy more of my time. Recently, I redesigned their Web site. Stay tuned.