Most people who know me know of my minor obsession with checking the mail. Ever since moving to Indianapolis in high school, I have considered checking the mailbox the highlight of my day; it's an event that symbolizes the chance for keeping in touch with old friends, receiving unexpected news, getting a magazine or, now, the latest Netflix movie.
Considering this love of the mailbox, my joy at receiving our first real piece of mail at Mercy Street was immense. We had gotten lots of mortgage life insurance offers and various flyers advertising local pizza joints, but when I saw the hand-addressed envelope with an Indiana return address, I was stoked. Inside was a Christmas photo of good friends, which immediately took its place on our fridge. Although the fridge is still pulled out into the middle of the kitchen, it now feels like part of a real home.