My twenty-five-year-old niece had been teasing me for a while. I was the absolute last person she knew that still received Netflix by mail.

I had my reasons. Or, at least, I had my reasons for years after streaming services started becoming popular.

I was mostly into indie movies, which were often not available as on-demand experiences. I didn’t care to pay to watch TV shows, let alone watch six episodes of a show back to back to back.

Of course, things changed. The quality of entertainment that was being made for TV rose and the library of stream-able indie movies expanded.

Despite the environmental benefits (not creating products that couldn’t be disposed in an eco-friendly way), there were other benefits for going digital.

With DVDs, I often had to wait for a new release to be sent to me. I could only order one at a time, or maybe two. I couldn’t request a new film until my last one was received safely.

Yet, I clung on to my way of doing things; periodically reviewing the offerings on the Netflix website and refreshing my priorities.

But, the other week, after watching a Netflix delivered documentary, I couldn’t get the disc out of my player.

I tried turning the power off and on. I tried to pull the drawer out manually. I tried to poke any exposed mechanical part with an un-bent paper clip. Nothing worked until the low profile black box fell on its side and the drawer opened as if by magic.

At first, I just felt relief. I could slip the disc in its envelope and pop it in the mail. Then I felt the weight of a big decision coming on.

Should I try to fix or replace my DVD player? How vested was I in this delivery system?

I already had been streaming movies through Prime and Peacock, also through ROKU. Those free services offer a wide selection, although new releases are not available, and I can only choose from what is on the platform’s menu at a particular time. And what about my collection of DVDs?

Was I looking at some sort of grieving period?

The first thing I decided I needed to do is actually not move into questions about replacement. Not yet. Whether I needed to start a Netflix streaming subscription didn’t have to be decided now. Justifying keeping my DVD library is not difficult, I considered,  when I could get a new player for $30.

I wouldn’t think I’d get sentimental about this, but I just wanted to hold the white inner sleeve and Netflix mailing envelope in my hands for a bit.

Living solo, as I have for most of my life, and living on a budget, ordering movies of my choosing that actually came to me, sometimes while they were still playing in theaters, for very little money, movies that I could watch when I wanted to and return right away or keep for a second viewing… was amazing.

Even when I knew a title was on its way, I got excited when I opened my mail box and saw the red envelope.

In a relaxation CD I play from time to time, the guide invites the listener to send thanks to everybody and every experience that led up to the current moment.

While I set an intention to notice and allow gratitude to well up no matter what touches my heart, like many people, I suppose, I get caught up  dwelling more on things in my life that are “unfinished” than what has been completed.

I thought about this invitation to be grateful for whatever has brought me to this moment, and I wanted to thank Netflix for the concept of sharing media and what is now old technology and say, “Thank you for your service.”

Whether taking a reflective pause after losing a job or ending a relationship or leaving a particular address I called home, I want to remember to acknowledge that I received something important.

Saying thanks to something you can’t take forward with you is no small thing.