December 22, 2011
“My mom just got a visit from John The Mailman. He’s been their mailman for 25 years. In true Millie fashion – though her words are few at this point – she made sure to say to my dad, “Give John his Christmas money.”
John The Mailman, standing at my mom’s bedside in the livingroom, let out a nervous giggle at the suggestion, and shrugged off the envelope when my dad handed it to him. “No, no, no…that’s okay,” insisted John The Mailman.
My mom would have nothing of the rebuff, “You better take it, John, or I’ll haunt you from the other side!”
John The Mailman laughed, tapped my mom’s forehead lovingly with the envelope, then placed it in the top pocket of his sweater.
My mom probably filled this card out in October. She was organized like that. She calls it organized, I call it OCD. I’m certain that her bloodline is what contributed to my own obsessions & compulsions. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…1, 2, 3, 4, 5. But admittedly, I’ve never given my mailman a Christmas Card. Perhaps I should start.
John The Mailman said he had to be on his way. With Christmas three days away, his cart runneth over. “Bundle up,” my mom added as she grabbed his hand for the final time. Through tears, John The Mailman said he would, and left with a pile of Christmas cards in hand to deliver to others having a much different holiday than this little house on the corner would be having this year.”
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