I still get care packages from my mom on a regular basis. I would protest and tell her that I’m an adult and I don’t need care packages, but they’re great. The ones that contain nothing but vitamins are admittedly less great, but that’s okay. Most of the time, they include books or things I left at home from childhood or cute little things she found around town or around the house or wherever. This week’s package was mostly stuff that wouldn’t fit into my suitcase on the way home from vacation. It was kind of a random collection, so I thought I would share.
There was a crystal bowl that Mom found at a resale store for a few dollars, a little painted box that was floating around the parental abode (it’s technically for a roll of stamps), four or five books (one of them looks like two copies of the Bible in one binding… hmm), a pocketknife, and some rice pilaf.
The whole assortment was mailed primarily because I couldn’t take the pocketknife home without checking a bag. It seemed silly to pay more to check a bag than it cost to buy the knife in the first place. I am kind of excited about having that addition to my personal belongings though. I feel like having a pocketknife gives you permission to go on adventures. I probably can’t fend off any bears with my knife though. My adventures will be more of the twine-cutting and bottle-opening variety. I can pretend that they’ll be big adventures though. That’s the glory of the pocketknife. It’s mobile and meant for odd jobs and such.
So thanks, Mom. After I finish my grand adventures, I’ll be sure to put something pretty in the crystal bowl.