Driving home after another monotonous day of my junior year I felt there was something different in the air. A strong feeling that something was coming. After reaching into my pocket to retrieve my keys and opening the front door I spied an envelope sitting threateningly on the table under the jacket hooks. The right corner was heavy with postage stamps that the return address answered for. "Alaska," I read the state out loud in a murmur. "Juneau, Alaska," I repeated to myself. The envelope ruptured easily and inside lay a single card heavy with foreign writing. The message inside informed me that my Reddit Santa was from Alaska and that she was overwhelmingly positive with her multitude of exclamation marks. A wash of relief swept over me as I realized that my tiny Florida beach town was not going to be attacked by Alaskans. Alaskaty was the pseudonym chosen by this mysterious figure. A quaint name that mixed what could only be her real name and the state she calls home. The end of the letter asked me to tell somebody that I love them. With a quick call, I gave my mother the message. The card also gave the impression that there would be a multitude of gifts to be had in the coming weeks.

After a week I nearly forgot about the Alaskan's promise, but then not one but two letters arrived on the same day. The first was marked shipped on March the sixth, but this was many, many days after that. It was a couple packets of blueberry tea. Tea is an enjoyable pastime, although blueberries are a tart and dry fruit that I particularly do not like. My friend loves blueberries, so the thought popped into my head to hand this off to her. The message on the package reminds me to change my clothes this weekend. "Odd," I say out loud to myself. "I wonder how much weirder these authorial intrusions will get." After dispatching this first package I rip the second one open. Inside I find a couple lightly folded pieces of copy paper and an iron on patch from Denali National Park. The first piece of paper informs me on a few facts that will stick inside my brain for many years to come. The second is a breathtaking picture of Mount McKinley. After the shock an awe of it all I contemplate what to do with the patch. My backpack needs some personalization, so a trip for a sowing kit goes onto the calendar. The week rolls by without another treasure and more waiting is all that is done.

The next gift comes in and my fingers devour the packaging. Inside is another piece of creased copy paper and an eye mask. In Florida, the days are consistently half-light and half-dark, but the mask has stars on it so that is pretty sweet. The note tells me that teenagers are said not to get enough sleep and that I should use this to get shut eye. "Yea, the requests are bordering on creepy, but the mask is cool so I might where it," I muse to myself in an empty house. The picture on the copy paper is the real sweet part of the deal. A massive ice cave photographed by the aforementioned Alaskaty herself. The sheer wonder that the cave puts into my head overwhelms me, but the day must go on, so I put the gifts on the pile forming on the desk in my room. More waiting is at hand.

A simple week is left before spring break now. School is slowing down. After another mindless day where my supposedly difficult classes bore me a ray of sunshine falls from the heavens to my doorstep. Two more packages from Alaskaty, whom I now consider basically my best friend, wait for me on my desk. The trinkets that capture my imagination this time are simply the greatest. When signing up for the exchange oh so long ago I almost put down the words "Please send stickers." The Alaskan must of known that some simple teenager would enjoy a packet of stickers because I received just that along with a notepad. The notepad fits perfectly into my thrown together school supplies. Maybe it will find use as a interview pad for my journalism class or just a reminder about the amazing experience that has befallen me.

As the week draws to a close I spend a long night with my friends to celebrate the arrival of my spring break. The Saturday morning I jet home just in time for the mail to arrive. Not only does the mailman drop off one letter. Not only does the mailman drop off a letter and a small envelope. The mailman drops off a huge padded sleeve. The shock and wonder seeps into my brain and I tear through the smaller two packages. A packet of sourdough bread mix lies within one with a tidy explanation of colloquial terms describing Alaskans. The other harbors a couple of peppered salmon jerkeys. I cannot help but laugh and say "What even is this?" The novelty of it all falls away as the larger envelope is devoured by my nimble hands. The contents astound me. A folded flue sheet of fabric adorned with golden stars meets my eyes. It is an Alaskan flag. And an Alaskan flag that legitimately flew at the capital. No words. No words at all.

I would like to profusely thank Alaskaty. You are an amazing guide into the unknown. Giving a Floridian a glimpse into the far reaches of the world. It has been a pleasure to open the various gifts sent to me. I only wish I could repay you. Which I can actually do now that I have your address... Hmm. Over the course of this experience you have sent things that have gone a cumulative 30,000 miles. Such a distance and I feel like I am your neighbor. Anyway. Thank you again. Hope you get some grade A blinds for your windows during your Alaskan summer. I will be thinking about you as I hang your flag proudly on my wall and sip Iced Tea on the beach. This has been fun.

P.S. You mentioned me taking the SAT in that last letter. Well, the scores arrived at the exact same time as that letter funnily enough. I earned a 1920 for my first try. Not quite what I wanted, but I am on my way. Thank you for enriching me with your knowledge about the edge of the world.