A Matter of Perspective

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When I was a kid, I loved getting mail. I had a pen pal and a Zoo Books subscription. The mailbox was full of possibilities. Adulting at the mailbox isn’t nearly as fun mortgages, taxes, jury duty… Who knows what’s in there? Every day I dread getting the mail, because it probably means someone wants money or someone wants me to do something that I don’t want to do.

And to make matters worse, a salamander (a fat, slithery, slimy, brown one) has taken up residence in my mailbox. I have the old fashioned kind of mailbox, up on the porch like on the Andy Griffith show. It’s a black metal box, right by the front door and because I am short, I have to stand on my tiptoes and peer down into it. So, besides the fear of a bill, a bad test result from the doctor, or jury duty (that’s a big one for me), I now have to worry about the very real possibility that a salamander will jump out when I open that metal lid.

Recently, I found a way to avoid the whole problem. I stopped getting the mail. I delegated. My 11 year old son now has the job of getting the mail and he likes this new job. He is excited by the possibilities of his magazine subscription, winning a sweepstakes, and seeing the salamander. The look of excitement he gets out of it has led me to a new way of thinking.

Maybe I should not expect the worst in the mail or in life. Maybe the bill will be correct and reasonable. Maybe the taxes will be a refund, not money owed. Maybe I won’t get jury duty. Maybe I will get a magazine or a letter or win the sweepstakes. The possibilities are endless.
Maybe, just maybe the glass really is half full or maybe it’s just a matter of perspective. Maybe I need to wear those rose colored glasses more often and maybe, just maybe they even make Zoo Books for adults…