Today while driving home from shopping. I saw the mail person next door delivering mail. He is rather new. I miss my mail girlfriend who I saw all over the neighborhood delivering mail even during the heart of the Covid-19 pandemic.
This fellow is sweet. He often makes corner turns on lawns and jumps over bushes. The mail man is small with a black beard, regardless he is a welcomed mail person.
Today I waited in my car as he walked along the path to our home. He stopped to answer his phone. A letter fell to the ground.
He looked over at me and I pointed down with my finger. He smiled and proceeded to deliver our mail. I got out of my car and walked over to the letter.
Upside down on the cement walkway with the newly fallen golden leaves it was singular in its significance. It was a simple personal letter addressed from one person to another.
I thought to myself,
“It is nice to see people still writing letters to each other in simple white envelopes.”
As Mr. Mail Person walked up to me, I nicely stated that I found this and saw that it in fact dropped from his bag.
“I just got cataract surgery on both eyes, so now I see everything.”
Smiling he said,
“twenty-twenty..” As he pointed to his eyes.
“I am glad I was there to see the letter.”
I handed him the message.
As I drove up into my driveway, I began to carry the groceries and put them on my red brick porch, I noticed the familiar smell of cannabis.
I then reflected on the concept of randomness and being there at the right time and place. Mr. nice smiling guy mail person got the letter to be delivered again.
In my neighborhood on Thursdays gardeners work, and trash cans are put out. I am happy to say I was an invisible helper.
This correspondence should reach its destiny.
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