Life at the Post Office

I had to mail something to somebody as a thank you gift today.

I try to be selective about when I go to my neighborhood post office. It used to be you could look through the window while you were in the parking lot and see whether there was 50 people in line or nobody.

But then they tinted the windows.

Now you just have to walk in and take your chances. 

So this morning I parked the car and went in.

By the door was a woman on her smart phone in a rather vocal argument with someone.

She was obviously angry.

I am wondering why she can’t have this argument in private.

As I am waiting in line a young mother comes in with her three young children in tow. They were all skipping and singing. All the children had to have been under five or six years old.

She left a package on the counter and then told her young charges that it was time to go. And like three little ducklings, they fell into line behind her and skipped out. 

Upon witnessing this, I was wondering when is it that we start to get cynical, or at least life grinds us down to the point we can’t show spontaneous joy?

I mentioned this observation to the woman behind me in line and she said she was thinking the same thing.

I gave my package to the clerk and mentioned that there was a lot of drama around here.

He said that woman with the smartphone was a regular here, and she had just been evicted and was now homeless.

And she’s bipolar.

You never really know.

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