One thing I miss about the States is my mailbox. There is something magical about opening up a little black door and having a handful of letters (okay mostly junk mail, but still) with your name on it. I don't have a mailbox in my host country. But, every now and then, a man on a motorcycle will pull up to the gate, yell an unintelligible phrase and hand me a yellow slip of paper. Oh, what a happy day that is!

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