Just Another Thursday

My daily routine felt way too routine

- John Jackson

CHILDREN PLAYED in the yards along the block. I waved to them as I walked by, delivering mail at houses along the way. Just an ordinary Thursday afternoon. I turned up the next walkway. The lady who lived there opened the door wide. “Hello,” she said. I knew what she was waiting for. “I’ve got your book club selection,” I said, handing over her package.

There were only about 700 people on my route. Over the years I’d gotten to know most of them, if not in person then by their mail. There were the folks who got magazines, or book after book, those who loved their catalogues, some who had steady pen pals. Mrs. Dorman at the end of my route got a package from the Home Shopping Network almost every day. She was an older lady, and I liked being able to bring a little joy into her life with my delivery. Some mailmen preferred routes where they drove a truck and slipped the mail into a collection of mailboxes without seeing anyone face-to-face. Not me. I wanted to be outside talking to people. Where the excitement was.

Except to be honest, there wasn’t much excitement on a local postal route like mine. Besides a sudden rainstorm or a white Christmas, every day was pretty much the same. I tucked a bundle into the next mailbox and noticed a postcard on top from Hawaii. Maybe I’m missing out on the real action of life, I thought, wishing I was there.