Many years ago, I remember an oddly endearing rom com, “You’ve Got Mail,” about a pairing between two business competitors that starts over an AOL connection.

In the ensuing years, between match.com, OK Cupid, eHarmony and others, this premise seems positively quaint.

These days, a high percentage of couples meet through an online dating app. The reference to anticipating making a match being reflected by the excitement one used to get at the prospects of receiving a notice in the “mail” also feels like a relic.

Whether in email or snail mail, these methods for sending or receiving is, apparently, not fast enough for most of us.

We don’t wait eagerly to receive checks anymore because of direct deposit. Most of us defer to our Facebook or LinkedIn feeds for birthday greetings, ignoring the fact that, instead of receiving an individually selected card, our friends sent a line after receiving an automatic reminder of the event from the platform.

Yes, mail delivery has gotten slow. The cost of postage has gone up. There are many reasons why relying on home delivery might not represent a loss to pine over, but I do miss some of the excitement about checking my mail box, looking out for something I’ve been waiting for.

There are few things still being sent by mail that gives me this feeling of anticipation like receiving a gift card in the mail.

They come from my bank for accruing points for exercising my credit card and involve a process of “selecting” a restaurant or retailer where I’d like give my patronage.

I usually like any opportunity to choose something anyway. I like the idea of making my opinion count even if it’s only choosing where to redeem my points.

I could make arrangements to receive cash back, but, to me, there is something wonderful about receiving something tangible as a thank you.

I’ll buy new underwear or toilet paper or books or bubble bath, practical things or small indulgences.

I seem to get special pleasure from thinking that the purchase is free or doesn’t require me to dip into savings or add to the amount owed on next month’s credit card statement.

Whatever I buy with my gift card is like a bonus, an unexpected boon, like a double-yolked egg or a “buy one, get one free” promotion.

I love how I get an email alert from my bank when the card is on its way and notice more spring in my step when I pad downstairs to my building’s mail box when I believe my card might come “any day.”

And then, when the card arrives, in a plain white envelope, gummy-glued to a standard 8 1/2” x 11” cardboard flyer and read “Your gift card has arrived,” I can’t help but smile.

I work hard for some things I value, like maintaining good relationships with people I don’t see often or composing an article I hope to publish.

But some things just seem to come to me: a beautiful, clear fall day;  finding something I’ve been looking for at the perfect time; an offer to share a meal.

I have the conscious intention to say “Thank you” whenever I come across a simple thing that especially touches me. But, like the words on the cardboard flyer that accompanies the means to my modest retail spree, “Your gift card has arrived,” my feelings of gratitude are reinforced by the notion that a “gift” is coming to me.

Thinking that I’m always receiving gifts is no small thing.