My freshly stuffed mailbox whispers stories of my pain, too many doctors and tests, needles and IVs and bandages. The matter-of-fact numbers swimming in my vision sing an ode to my 31-year-old body, too soon broken, and the credit card bills lingering despite my Very Good health insurance.
Envelopes with telltale windows arrive long after I think I’ve defeated them. They pour over my battlements with new claims, new charges, new issues. I stack my enemies up in a desk corner until they slip-slide out of place; I pay them just before they cut me down. I miss getting postcards.
Rachael Dickzen is a lawyer who writes because it gives her great joy.
thedrabble.wordpress.com 
Nicely captured. I’d like to say, “Been there; done that” but I have to be honest and say, “Am there; doing that.” Salute!
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Thank you very much! I just got another bill in the mail today and instantly just wanted to throw them all in the trash. It never ends!
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Dammit, that’s exactly what I do with mine. I miss postcards too.
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Postcards are the best. I send them to my nieces and friends whenever I go to a new city or country. 🙂
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