I probably get more personal mail than the average person. It brings no end to my joy when I reach into my mailbox to pull out a letter. Someone took the time to think about me, and took the time to sit down and try and put those thoughts into words. The edges of envelopes I recieve are creased, the addresses are hand-written and the packages are often dirty and smudged with food.
And in some cases, this mail has travelled across the world to find me.
Yesterday, I got a letter from my host mom Kathy.
