Month: March 2014

I went to the post office today. It was just after lunch when the post office lady (I think her name is Donna) was retrieving the mail from the authentic looking blue postal collection box just outside of the front door. I walked past her with a nod of my head, as I usually do, but I’m unsure if she saw me.

She was talking with another lady as they traveled together out of the post office. The other woman had a sheaf of envelopes in her hand, of various shapes and sizes, leading me to believe she had just checked her postal box for the day. They were conversing animatedly with each other like they were old friends, so I didn’t interrupt.

As I settled in at the counter to wait for her imminent return another gentleman came in after me. I also nodded at him, as is my wont in situations such as those, and he inclined his head in return. It’s a guy thing. He was an older fellow, with a white beard that didn’t at all remind me of Santa Claus. And even though this is a small town, I don’t believe I had ever seen him before, a rarity that was worth noting at the time, and then later.

We struck up a minimal conversation about the heat in the place, a standard placeholder, while we waited a few moments for Donna to return to the counter. She breezed back in, closing the inner door behind her. A slight whiff of cinnamon followed in her wake. I stood sentinel at the vinyl counter as she came around from the back and settled back into her place. It reminded me of a hairdresser returning to her styling chair, looking slightly out of place until she is standing there again with scissors in her hand. Continue reading “@ The Post Office”