How Our Mail Became Something Special

a response to my writing club prompt: become

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While househunting in Delaware, one charming detail stood out in the majority of neighborhoods: the vertical steel mailboxes mounted to the wall near the front doors. It felt so lovely and old-fashioned to have a friendly neighborhood mailman deliver right to your doorstep. I’d see the mail truck parked near the corners of each street and the mail person walking door to door to deliver snail mail.

I remember telling my sister how much I would love that feature. However, our chosen house checked every box except for that mailbox style. We ended up with a modern-day mailbox on a post, anchored into a miniature flower bed by the curb, far less cute.

“Oh well. It’ll do,” I thought. A daily afternoon stroll down the driveway to retrieve our mail was no different from how we’d done it at our previous house, so no big deal.

However, you never know what can become of a situation. In this case, something unexpected happened, something better. That daily walk turned into something more, a daily talk.

To our surprise, our mailman rang the doorbell and greeted us with our letters and packages in hand. Day after day, week after week, over three years, our mailman, Lenny, delivered our bigger packages to our doorstep. Through wind, rain, and snow, he delivered.

Despite having two 'No Soliciting' signs displayed in plain view, because I’m generally anxious about strangers near the front door, Lenny never felt like a stranger. He became an exception to my rule, a familiar presence I trusted without hesitation.

One day, I noticed a car following closely behind Lenny’s mail truck, stopping closely behind him as he went house to house. Who was this person trailing him? I was concerned.

It turns out that it was someone who would fill in for Lenny on his days off. Okay, no big deal. His fill-in is nice, though we haven’t gotten to know him as well.

Then, one day, all the neighbors received a handwritten letter from Lenny. He shared how he would be retiring soon. My husband handed me the letter, my eyes teared up, and my heart saddened. A bright spot in our day would suddenly disappear. I hoped the new mail person would be good enough (they are not), but no matter what, Lenny’s professionalism and personal touch couldn’t be matched. He would be greatly missed.

On the last day of his mail route, many of our neighbors came to meet Lenny at the curb, giving him thank-you gifts, handshakes, and a sad wave goodbye.

His presence, though simple, shaped our daily lives in an unexpected way, becoming a moment of kindness, a familiar face, and a daily reassurance. We may not have gotten the letterbox I’d admired in so many other neighborhoods, but we got something better: Lenny.

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Please copy and paste the following blurb into the bottom of your post: This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Become."