I’m expecting something in the mail today. Photos from our recent trip. It’s not a surprise. I ordered them. I paid for them. They gave me an arrival date. Yet, I may as well be six years old, waiting for my package redeemed from Bazooka Joe bubble gum wrappers. 

Our mailbox stood with three others at the end of our driveway. It was not a long driveway, perhaps four to five car lengths. But the urgency to check the mailbox did require the riding of my banana seat bike from garage door to mailbox, to cut down the added seconds of waiting time. I knew it was excessive. But it was impossible to stop. 

After a full morning of making the trip, even while knowing the mail never came before noon, I had to rake the gravel to cover my path of impatience. And also it used up some of the seemingly endless waiting time. 

Rake in hand, and bike at my feet, I heard the popping of the slow wheels. He waved from the opposite side of the car as he pulled up to the boxes. He placed the white letters for Weiss’s, the newspaper for Mullen’s, and then turned back to his bag. He was digging for something. I pierced my lips. My heart as well. Pull it! Pull it! While he was digging, I had to think, “What did I actually order? Was it the camera? The spy glass? Coin purse. It must be the coin purse…” I looked up and he placed the tiny cardboard container in our box. He tapped the horn and popped down the road to Norton’s. Rake upon handlebar, I ran to whatever lay ahead.

I don’t know what today will bring, be it via mailbox or circumstance, but let me be excessive with joy and wonder. With pierced lip and heart, let me race toward it! Let the gravel pop beneath me.