Lonely Mailbox
I had a conversation with my daughter the other day about an important document that was mailed to her. Yes, I use her address up north for the one or two pieces of mail I get during the year. I asked her to send it to me here in Mazatlán, knowing that it would take roughly six weeks to arrive. No problem… evidently, I have become a laid back maῆana-type semi Mexican. When she seemed surprised over the issue of time involved for this envelope to take on such an epic journey, I had to laugh.
Quite frankly, there may be a bestselling novel out there. A thriller, perhaps. If only we could be the envelope for those six weeks. Think of the adventures it must be going through, those tense moments in the dark post office late at night where the foreign surroundings might cause the letter to fear if it will ever reach its destiny. Ok, I just put that on my list of future possible books.
Two years ago, a young man rang my bell, it was shortly before Christmas. He said he was my mailman, and was on my doorstep asking for his holiday tip. I remember being confused, and thinking, “I didn’t realize I had a mailman, I never get mail.” I then smiled and gave him 50 pesos.
Do I have a mailbox? Of course I do! When I moved here, I was shocked that there were no mailboxes in my neighborhood, couldn’t understand it. Well, I took care of that, and raced to Home Depot to purchase a cute little box that I proudly hung on the side of my villa next my front door. “Ah, now that feels better,” I thought. “I am now ready to receive my mail.”
That was six years ago, I have received exactly three pieces of mail since.
I was excited though, I knew my water and electric bills now had a safe haven to rest until I retrieved them. But that didn’t go exactly as planned. I still found them sitting on my porch, or on a windy day, in the neighbor’s garden. Oh well, I was ready to get real mail. Last year, my northern bank sent me a new debit card. Scary. It took over six weeks to arrive. I went to the downtown post office at about six weeks, and waited in the lobby while a nice man disappeared into the back room. A few minutes later, a young man came out, it was my mailman! He smiled, having remembered my 50 peso tip, even remembered my name! “I’m on it,” he said. I left with a smile on my face, my confidence lifted, knowing that I would soon have this important card in my possession. About a week later, I found a letter from my bank taped to my front door, with a note on it from my mailman. Call me so I know you got this~ 669.111.22.22 . I was disappointed that he had chosen not to use my mailbox, but at the same time, elated that my card had arrived safely. Then I thought about this young mailman.
Suddenly, I found myself weighing two parts of this scenario. “It took over six weeks to arrive!” With, “I do not believe I have ever seen such a personal touch in the delivery of my mail.”
Lesson? Of course, it is always nice to be generous with Christmas tips, but the real lesson here is this. Go ahead, get a mailbox while living in Mazatlán, but just know this. It’s like attaching a painting to your living room wall, a piece of art to appreciate. And lucky me, my lonely mailbox is a real beauty.
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Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
Quite frankly, there may be a bestselling novel out there. A thriller, perhaps. If only we could be the envelope for those six weeks. Think of the adventures it must be going through, those tense moments in the dark post office late at night where the foreign surroundings might cause the letter to fear if it will ever reach its destiny. Ok, I just put that on my list of future possible books.
Two years ago, a young man rang my bell, it was shortly before Christmas. He said he was my mailman, and was on my doorstep asking for his holiday tip. I remember being confused, and thinking, “I didn’t realize I had a mailman, I never get mail.” I then smiled and gave him 50 pesos.
Do I have a mailbox? Of course I do! When I moved here, I was shocked that there were no mailboxes in my neighborhood, couldn’t understand it. Well, I took care of that, and raced to Home Depot to purchase a cute little box that I proudly hung on the side of my villa next my front door. “Ah, now that feels better,” I thought. “I am now ready to receive my mail.”
That was six years ago, I have received exactly three pieces of mail since.
I was excited though, I knew my water and electric bills now had a safe haven to rest until I retrieved them. But that didn’t go exactly as planned. I still found them sitting on my porch, or on a windy day, in the neighbor’s garden. Oh well, I was ready to get real mail. Last year, my northern bank sent me a new debit card. Scary. It took over six weeks to arrive. I went to the downtown post office at about six weeks, and waited in the lobby while a nice man disappeared into the back room. A few minutes later, a young man came out, it was my mailman! He smiled, having remembered my 50 peso tip, even remembered my name! “I’m on it,” he said. I left with a smile on my face, my confidence lifted, knowing that I would soon have this important card in my possession. About a week later, I found a letter from my bank taped to my front door, with a note on it from my mailman. Call me so I know you got this~ 669.111.22.22 . I was disappointed that he had chosen not to use my mailbox, but at the same time, elated that my card had arrived safely. Then I thought about this young mailman.
Suddenly, I found myself weighing two parts of this scenario. “It took over six weeks to arrive!” With, “I do not believe I have ever seen such a personal touch in the delivery of my mail.”
Lesson? Of course, it is always nice to be generous with Christmas tips, but the real lesson here is this. Go ahead, get a mailbox while living in Mazatlán, but just know this. It’s like attaching a painting to your living room wall, a piece of art to appreciate. And lucky me, my lonely mailbox is a real beauty.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
No comments have been added yet.
