“Oh they are here, they are here,” she said as she watched the Postman stick a package in her mailbox. She started to go get it but remembered the cookies and she could not afford to mess them up because she had used up all of her basic ingredients. She took a batch out and stuck another batch in, then the phone rang. With the phone cradled against her shoulder, she finished the cookies and turned the oven off. Then she proceeded to carefully place twelve cookies in each tin and seal the tin with a thin strip of wrapping tape. Eighteen dozen cookies, in eighteen brightly painted cookie tins. She had saved the tins as did all of her friends. The Valentine's Day cookie sale was their main source of money for the "Train-a-friend" League, a club that found and trained small pets, mostly dogs, for older and people that were motion disadvantaged.

It wasn't until she heard the school bus come up the street that she remembered the mail. Not bothering to put on her hat or coat she quickly dashed out to the mailbox. She flipped down the large door, reached in and took out the mail. Two letters, three bills and two flyers in envelopes. She turned and started inside for it was in the low 20s.

She was halfway up the sidewalk on her way back to the house when she stopped. “Where is it, where is my package?” she said. She stopped, turned her head, and distinctly remembered seeing the postman put a package in her mailbox while she was baking cookies. She turned again and walked back to the mail box. She opened it and looked inside. She even ran her hand inside to made sure. But no package! Mrs. Waggletongue drove by, so she waved. “Where is it, where is it?” she asked herself. She realized how cold it was and hurried back to the house.

No one has ever bothered the mail. No one has ever pilfered any mail in this neighborhood. She was stunned. They should have been here, the order should have been here. She had ordered three pairs of imitation fleece-lined slippers from Harriet Carter, a present for the Dunnigan twins. It was their birthday next week and she always gave them a birthday present.

Mary came home, then Joe and Seth, so Benny would, as usual be late. Why was it that her four children could get out of school at the same time, yet not get home within an hour or so of each other. “Hi mom, make any extra cookies, I smell cookies,” Joe said when he came in. “I am the cookie monster,” he added as he opened the fridge and got an apple. “Want an apple Seth? Old tightwad mom ate all the cookies. Poor children, we have to settle for a scrawny little apple.”

She snapped the dishtowel that had been on her shoulder at him. “Get upstairs and do your homework, remember you three children have Judo tonight, and at nine the rest of that Miss Marple comes on.”

Benny came in and put his books on the kitchen table. “Going to Lou’s. We are working on the science project. Be back for supper and in time for Judo.

She waved her hand as she looked at the mail box and wondered. Theirs was the only mail box on this block. There were four boxes across the street, but the owners owned the whole lot so there was only one house and one mailbox on this block. She shook her head as she continued to wonder. Finally she heard her husband’s noisy old truck pull into the driveway and around the house to the garage. She checked the bread and took a salad out of the fridge.

“What you thinking about, what is puzzling you Hon?” her husband asked as he gave her a peck on the cheek and felt her bottom. She grinned and slapped his hand. Hmmm maybe the night would be better.

“I was baking cookies and saw the mailman put a package in our mailbox. But when I went out to get the mail, the package was not there.” She yelled to the children. “Supper time! Wash up. Stew is on in three minutes.” She turned off the oven and looked at the rolls, golden brown. Now to let them get a little more crunch.

Supper time at her house was one of conversation, family talk. Discussions of the day, what was upcoming and the news topics of the day. She and her husband expected the children to read the paper and to watch the news on TV so they knew current events. “They broke ground for the new WallyMart today. Boy, I don’t know how we are going to cope,” her husband said. “You children are going to have to start helping out in the shop; they undersell everyone, and we do not stand a chance.”

“Dad, how do they outsell or undersell you? Can’t you cut prices?”

“Well, it is like this. A small businesses like ours can not compete with them; we buy from a distributor, who buys from the factory. They buy for over one thousand stores directly from the manufacturers. In many cases they contract with a manufacturer for an item. They walk in and ask, how much they can buy two hundred thousand widgets for.’

“Oh, here come the widgets. My dad is a widget man, dad da,” Ben said in a lighthearted manner. It was a family joke because their dad when talking about business always talked about widgets.

Dad continued, “They push the manufacturer and he makes minimal profit. Normally the manufacturer studies the market and makes so many widgets then his salesmen go out and sell them to wholesalers. They also advertise and create interest in their products; not required for WallyMart orders, advertises and then sells them all.”

“Mom the bread and stew is sooo good.” Mary said, as she was looking at the clock. “I am going to Samantha’s to rehearse the speech,” she was up and gone.

Dad finished, put his knife and fork in his plate, finished his glass of milk and then took his dishes to the sink. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth, we leave in twenty minutes.” He then went into the den to watch the news. At this house there was no radio or television during a meal.

As soon as they left, she went into the sewing room and began work on Mary’s quilt. It was to be her graduation present and to also be her biography for her first seventeen years. She and Cleo Dander had planned it and laid it out last spring. She could not concentrate because she kept thinking of the mail and the package. Twenty leben things ran through her head as she did Girl Scout and Brownie thingys for the quilt. Her mother had made a quilt for her oldest sister and second sister, but by the time it was her turn, her mom had physical problems and could not work on such things. That is why she was determined her daughter would have one.

She heard her husband and the boys come in then the water running as they showered. She looked at her watch; Mary should be home in ten or fifteen minutes, so she put her work away and went down stairs. Her husband was reading the mail. “Honey, ask the postman tomorrow, I know there is a simple explanation for it.” He arose, walked over and hugged his wife. “You look like you have a lot of weight on your shoulders, it will be all right.”

After the boys went to bed they sat in the den and talked. It was their time of the day. She had a glass of her special wine and her husband had some Scotch. They retired, but she was still puzzled.

The next morning went as all others, for she had the house on a schedule and each one followed their routine. When the children had departed for school she went to the store and bought groceries. After returning home she quickly put them away and then put supper on, a beef roast with potatoes, carrots and onions. She then made a cup of coffee and watched for the postman.

Finally she saw him way down the street. She waited then as he was finishing the other block she got her coat and hat, she always wore an old blue sock cap and took the mail out to wait for him.

It seemed it took him a long time to make those last two stops before her’s, but finally he pulled up at their box. “Morning, sort of chilly, how are the children and did the husband get that new seed catalog?” The postman asked, as he selected her mail. As he handed it to her, he laughed, “Oh yesterday I was thinking about my wife’s dental appointment and put a package in your mailbox by mistake then I came back for it. “ He looked sheepish, “It was Mrs. Johansen’s medications.”

She took the mail, grinned and walked back into the house. “They did not come, they did not come,” she said.

  ~ Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)~



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