Yesterday I bought two packets of Christmas cards. Lovely, they are. Sweet illustrations, all decked out in silver glitter. Still blank. But I’ve made the first step.
I’m going to put myself out there and say that I love Christmas cards. I love sending them. I love receiving them. Writing them, I’m not so fond of, but I make time for it every year because it’s sometimes the only hand-written note I send all year*. Thank you notes are also hand-written, but not all my friends get one of those every year. All my friends get a Christmas card.
I have one friend who told me that I am never allowed to stop sending cards. Mine is the only proper, actual, hand-written card that she gets. If I stop, the only cards she’ll receive are from real estate agents and her bank. One year I toyed with leaving her off the list just to play with her mind, but I resisted. It didn’t seem to be in the right spirit, you know?
It’s true that I don’t always receive cards from people I’ve sent them to. In fact, many people don’t write back. It’s also true that I receive cards from people whom I suspect would never have sent me one had I not sent one to them first.
I don’t care.
I will continue to write and send my Christmas cards, ignoring the insta-pleasure of the email card, for as long as Australia Post is still around to provide a snail mail service. It’s a big part of Christmas for me.
But I will never send a family Christmas letter. Sorry. If you want to know what’s going on, you have to actually speak to me. Or read my blog. Which, come to think of it, is one big family Christmas letter.
What about you? Do you send Christmas cards? Do you love them? Hate them? Light your Christmas candles with them? And what’s your position on the family Christmas letter?
*It is worth noting that my handwriting is so appalling that it is probably a good thing I only drag it out once a year. There are people all over the country puzzling over my Christmas cards, wondering who the hell they’re from.