For the month of December, I live in a house of cards.

I don’t mean that my house is flimsy or lacking a sound structure. It’s just that holiday cards take up premium space on the top of my dining room credenza between late November and January 1st. Overflow cards may be fanned open and displayed on the window sill on the other end of my dining room.

My late November birthday, along with Thanksgiving and, this year, Hanukkah, opens the season of collecting cards. The collection  grows through December when I receive Christmas greetings.

My typical You’ve Got Mail instincts kick in around Thanksgiving. As the days get shorter, as darkness paints my front steps earlier, I notice being more eager to check my mail box. Between, the usual low-interest rate credit card offers and holiday catalogs, I will start seeing larger, more square-shaped envelopes, often in pastels, with trademarked logos on the back announcing the contents came from Hallmark or Shoebox or Papyrus or UNICEF.

I will quickly run my eyes over the face of the envelope and study the return address. I may laugh at how the penmanship says something I’ve already contemplated about the sender’s personality. I will think about the last time I saw or spoke to the sender. I’ll think about what a nice gesture it is – to be remembered this way. Then my ponderous mood will break and I will tear open the envelope.

Some cards are funny. Some cards try to capture qualities that reflect my relationship with the sender. Others are strictly about the occasion. I’ll read the official, printed, greeting slowly and the personal message on the inside even more slowly. I will read a card multiple times before adding it to my collection.

I’ll usually take some time before placing a card on the dark wood surface. I take many things into consideration when arranging them; color, size, shape, who the card is from. I enjoy this process too.  Cards from my bank or from other businesses usually go to the back row. Cards with more personality or cards from people with whom I am closer tend to end up in the front.

I think I enjoy collecting cards holiday time because I like running to the mail box in anticipation of being surprised when I open an envelope.

I like reading the cards, and I like feeling that the senders were deliberate in choosing them.  Think about how often you have stood over the rack at Target or CVS or a specialty card shop pouring over the options for a special friend or a special occasion. I like receiving birthday cards, which are individually selected, more than seasonal cards, which come in boxed sets. I like feeling that I am unique; that of all the choices available a card was picked just for me.

I like arranging the cards and making a display for myself because I can apply my creativity, my own thinking to how I display them.

Mostly, I like to be able to look at my cards periodically during the day and think about how they represent the serendipitous intersection of my history with the histories of different people in my life. Was it chance that I was born into a certain family, was introduced to certain friends through other friends, or developed ties to different professionals who use my birthday or holiday to let me know that I matter to them?

It certainly can feel random sometimes. It can also feel meant to be. Sometimes when I see my house of cards, in all their colors, shapes, sizes and styles, I can absorb a keen truth. My life is largely about the people I share it with, the time I spend with them, what I’ve done with them or what I’ve learned from them, and what I think about them.

Being reminded that I belong to them and they belong to me is no small thing.  (That reminds me, I need to mail Laura’s birthday card before the 20^th.)