The task that faced me was overwhelming. How was I going to deal with almost two years of material that trickled through the front door and wound up on every horizontal surface in the living room, dining room, and kitchen? Little things, big things, well-intentioned projects littered our lives since we both began our new work lives in December 2019. They were all there for the world and for us to see. For us, the sight of them meant nagging feelings of things undone.
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The 40-year class reunion of the Archbishop O’Hara High School intimidated me. The decades have been good to me in many ways, but I felt I was somehow inferior to my classmates. I have done many things, achieved much. But I am, in the end, a mailman. All those roads with their twists and turns, and I have little to account for a life of what some call adventure.
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I was dreaming of a basement bedroom and the dim light dribbled through the window at the top of the wall. Trying to get up the steps, I felt that something was tugging my shirt, pulling me to the carpet. My grasp on the rail kept me from falling. Though wanting to get up those steps, I resigned myself to the reality of being stuck in the room underground.
Leave a CommentSitting in the lobby making time with the customers is a great time. For a while. Then, the day gets long, which makes for a very long week. One thing I can say about carrying the mails is that the days goes quickly. I always feel a little angst before clocking in. But then I swipe my card and, bing, the day starts and is almost over.
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I’m struck with the passage of time. As I’ve written before, I think that the cruelest trick biology has played on us humans is that when we are young, time passes so slowly. We get a little wisdom and experience and time flies.
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