Letterboxes

Photos by Sonja, Phoebe & Joyce

I wish I had something profound to say about these letterboxes but, even after pondering for a few days, nothing comes to mind. I’ve been walking past them for as long as I can remember, blending into their suburban environment just like their neighbouring, splintered picket fences and botched lilly pilly hedges. Some letterboxes show signs of age. Weathered and neglected. Void of mail. Some overflow with contents. Perhaps it’s because they keep forgetting to assign a ‘no junk mail’ sign like I do.

It’s odd that we live such private lives yet we still permit our most personal information to be stashed in tin boxes on the side of the road. Perhaps it’s because they’ve become no more than a furnishing, replaced by invisible letterboxes on our phones.

There’s nothing exceptionally special about this letterbox and the yard it is situated in. It sits between decorative period homes with blooming magnolias and quaint birdbaths, but its humble appearance is both comforting and unsettling. The letterbox stands tall in a strikingly white, manicured front yard with pops of turquoise that gives the Australian weatherboard home a touch of life. The dated Camry contrasts the tidy garden but complements the surrounding white features. As I look at the window tucked behind the empty letterbox, I can’t help but wonder why its blinds were closed on such a sunny day.