The Mail Must Go Through

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor first long weekend of spring… I think the postal carriers’ motto goes something like that, doesn’t it? After doing the rounds on Friday, our local mailman found one last letter in his shoulder bag with my address on it. Sure, he technically could have finished off his route by tossing it into our mailbox and giving it not a second thought. After all, I’m sure there was a dock and a beer waiting for him somewhere.

Instead, he took note of the fact that I’d already scooped up the day’s mail, acknowledged that I wouldn’t be looking in the box again until four days hence, and took the time to ring the doorbell and personally hand-deliver the envelope. “I noticed you’d already grabbed the mail, so I just thought I’d give this to you,” he said.

I glanced at the envelope and suddenly felt a well of gratitude. It was a gift card from Auntie Sylvie – and it was addressed to my daughter, who would be celebrating her birthday before the long weekend was through.

I told him about the special occasion. “She wouldn’t have gotten this in time for her birthday. I really appreciate that,” I explained. Nice way to start off what was truly a glorious-weather, party-filled weekend – with an exuberant birthday girl who has a generous aunt… and a dedicated mailman. As it happens, a fortunate combination.

Happy birthday to you, you belong in a zoo… (don’t they all? They’re fourteen.)

Happy birthday to you, you belong in a zoo… (don’t they all? They’re fourteen.)

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