OPEN WINDOWS: From India, with Love (lots)

Like twins asserting their independence through different clothes or hair ties, every frustration in India is a frustration in its own right. It comes from the same place, makes your chest just as drum-tight as the others, but still somehow retains its individuality.

I hoarded the pulpy feeling of the hand-made paper between my fingers. Something to be saved for later. I used only my best handwriting for this envelope, making sure that every word maintained the beauty of the yellow and gold leaves that wrapped around the letter inside. Sophie and Beth led the way through what are now familiar streets. The weather is always sunny and dry; a beach day without the refuge of water.

Stepping up to the post office (“Speedy Courier”), I was cherishing the last few moments of ownership over the packaged sentiments that I was about to mail to Ashley. Under the expertise of Sophie, we veered to the right of the long line and shuffled into lane 2. There it was again, turning my beach day into a tornado of inner tantrums. “No.” What is this “no”? No? NO? That’s it. That’s all I get. No explanation, no further demands. Staring down the sideline of her folder full of random rupees, the refusal of the cashier to give me change for my 50 (the stamps were 25) sent my imagination flying. I took the wooden stick, lounging on the side of the yogurt container oozing with blue glue, and flung the sticky stuff all over the walls. I rolled and stomped and contorted my face into a special kind of ugly. I tritely commented: “Why does a government agency not have (or more precisely, not willing to give) 25 rupees in change?”

Luckily, Sophie rummaged around and exchanged a few bills with me. The glue stayed on the envelope (and off of the walls), smothering the stamps, lacking a self-stick backside, onto the paper. The woman was spared any trite comments, though they are still floating around in my chest anytime I even think of sending a letter.

To anyone who receives a letter from me: please know that you are severely loved. And how lucky you are to be using the U.S. Postal Service to return the favor.