I've got mail

Rich pickin's at the Canal Street post office today. It seems they have recreated a mini Prince Street Station within its huge, marbeled halls. And I was able to use my key to PO Box 19...to open PO Box 19...at Canal Street. They actually took out all the old boxes from the old station and built new walls to put them in.

I wasn't expecting anything exciting. The usual credit card offers, catalogues, blablabla.

But what was insssside?

Treasure!

First, the next issue of Go! Always a good thing. On the editorial page a picture of my cousin, who wrote the editorial, as a baby in her mother's arms. My mothers' sister.

Then, a small, stiff envelope from the US Government: I didn't even open it. I knew what was inside. A large envelope from them, too. That I opened...my original certificate of citizenship returned (I had to send it in to get what was in the other envelope, and I was very nervous about it after all the snarl-ups I've experienced in this pro-trac-ted process). It was in one piece.

Then, a letter from the IRS. Uh-oh. Oh boy. I opened it at once. Never delay bad news. Inside it was a letter saying that...they were paying me back! A lot! Like enough to more than justify what I spent today having my Heywood Wakefield chairs reupholstered. And then some.

Jeepers. I opened the little stiff envelope at home. The emotion that was absent at the swearing-in arrived when the little blue book was in my hand. My passport.

Bubbly, anyone?