Some things evoke feelings, memories, conditions of days gone past. This past week, walking somewhere, I caught of whiff which seemed familiar. The odor was reminiscent of that of slightly decaying paper, one I know well from spending time in the stacks in the Carnegie Library in high school and college. I've not spent hours on end just perusing the stacks in years, but still, the smell tresspassed briefly, long enough to trigger the memory, then passed.
Monday night I recounted that I wasn't 'feeling' Christmas. There was a brief moment Sunday, with the snow, where it almost felt right. Almost. And then it passed.
Tonight, on the table next to the gifts being wrapped, I opened an envelope. Inside, a check for a dozen dollars and an address on a sheet of paper waited. I pulled out the check, walked to the basement, and grabbed something from a box. As I carried it upstairs, memories flooded back. I remembered Christmas. I felt it.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I found a box, placed the object I was carrying with it, and put the address somewhere I'd find it in the morning.
Tomorrow, after I leave the house and before my morning tea, I'll visit the Post Office, followed shortly thereafter by the ATM across the street.