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There was only one negative aspect to the Argentina trip: not being able to receive your letters, dear friend. I missed the brief rush that comes every evening as I hang my hat and coat, shuffling through the day’s mail, looking for that unique envelope. Sometimes handmade from rough, brown paper, other times a simple plastic tube – but always different, as is your custom. I’m sure this all sounds familiar to you, the simple pleasure of receiving a letter. Something physical, that’s come directly from the hands of a friend, with its own history, part of a long tradition.
The day I returned to Brooklyn, I could hardly contain myself. I nearly attacked the pile of mail that had accumulated over my two week absence – junk mail, bills, and higher percentages of mail for past tenants. Surely somewhere I’d find at least one letter from you. Surely the wait had been worth it. But when I’d gotten to triple checking the pile my hopes were thin and I’d also realized just how delinquent I was on my Verizon bill – which is a bill for services I never received mind you.
I’d all but given up when I noticed a corner of delicate paper just showing itself from under the radiator. The muscles in my throat contracted and I cautiously knelt to see what it was. Would a lonely boy’s simple pleasure be fulfilled?
That smirking little corner of paper turned out to be a letter from none other than Jenn Procacci! One of my oldest friends, and in fact my senior prom date. How delightfully unexpected! Her letter came in the form of a collage centered around a review of one of our favorite restaurants: Charles Plaza. It’s probably the best Chinese food in Philly and the best part is the owner, Charles, comes over and basically creates a personalized menu for your table solely based on his first impressions of you. He never fails to bring exactly what you’re craving. I’d trust almost anything to this man.