When I was a little girl, my paternal grandmother used to send me things in the mail.
Sometimes, she tucked a piece of chewing gum into a letter that she wrote to my mom.
Several times, she sent me handkerchiefs that she crocheted pretty edgings on. I still have all eight of them.
It was always something flat that would fit neatly into an envelope so it would go through the mail for the standard price of a three-cent postage stamp. (I can still remember the displeasure my mother voiced when the price went up to four cents!)
It doesn’t seem like much by today’s standards to get a piece of gum in the mail. But at five years old, receiving an unexpected treat in the mailbox meant my Grandma was thinking of me.
Now, as an adult — and someone who made a career out of being a fiber artist — I can fully appreciate the time and care it took to crochet the edgings on those handkerchiefs and to knit the many pairs of slippers she made for me one Christmas long ago.
Through My Eyes, Gently 