Mailing Bread

If you would have watched me a few minutes ago, you’d have not given me a second thought. A middle-aged man putting items in the mailbox outside of  City Hall would never spark comment. 

But throw a couple of loaves of bread in there, and suddenly my act seems noteworthy. 

One of the visually oddest metaphors in the Bible is the Sage telling us to “cast your bread on the water, for you’ll find it after many days.” Like some Bronze Age student of the Sage, I threw some crusts into the mailbox, hoping beyond hope that they will return.

"Cast your bread upon the waters, for you will find it after many days.” Ecclesiastes 11:1

OK, so it wasn’t literally loaves of sourdough I put in the mailbox, but felt as if I were casting bread with the cards I posted. 

I made two card for my two sons—both of whom have ghosted me—telling them simply that I am thinking about them. I think about them every day, but have been blocked on all forms of media. The post office is the turbulent sea onto which I throw my bread, my hopes, traces of love and tears. 

I don’t even have a solid address for my oldest. The Internet had yielded only conflicting and dubious addresses. I’ve not gotten one back marked “Return to Sender,” so I assume the cards are received. So many assumptions behind my bread casting. 

Mailing notes in hopes that my sons know they are loved and missed may seem futile. It may be futile. But it’s all I have to cast that has any hope of making it into their hands. 

So, what am I expecting to “return to me after many days”?

Frankly, I’m not sure. I’d love to have the relationship we had when they were young, but that is an unlikely outcome even if we were still in contact. They’ve moved, grown, connected all without me. After all, bread that been thrown into the sea can’t return in the same condition it was when it was sent out. 

At least, I’d like to know that they get the notes and read them. More than that, I’d like it if they feel cared about in some way. They could receive it and be angry that I reached out, so even a glimmer of positive feeling would be amazing. 

Ultimately, I’d love to connect again. To be able to text or call occasionally. 

And if I have grandchildren, I’d like to be able to connect with them. 

Those are big dreams: Facing an ocean of separation with waves of anger, bitterness, miscommunication roiling between me and them.  

Still, I’ll keep sending cards. Maybe someday I’ll look out to find my bread has returned. It will be welcomed with arms open wide.