The Letter

The Letter

When I was about 5,

Just learning to write my first name,

I was also learning about 

The Post Office, where Dad worked.

A U.S. Mail box receptacle was up on Main St

In front of the city hall, police station 

and fire station,

Where the firemen let me sit and look at the funny papers from the Post-Dispatch.

We got the Globe-Democrat.

I was getting tall enough to reach the mail receptacle opening.

Tall enough to peek down the mysterious chute that secured the mail.

One day I assembled leaves and bits of yarn and other stuff, quite randomly.

I put them in a homemade envelope, made of construction paper.

I printed MARY on the envelope.

(The R may have been backwards)

I walked up to the mail receptacle on Main St

Quite naturally, as I had seen Mom mail letters,

I was mailing

a Letter,

To Myself.

Later, Dad came home.

Tired,

Sweating,

Hard working guy.

A Postman.

He held up a familiar packet,

My Letter!

"Maireeee" 

I knew that sound.

I was in trouble

Puzzled as I looked at my homemade letter.

The voice in my head...

How did he know it was me??!

So many Mary's then.

At the time, 

I think I was too upset at being caught,

To notice Dad was stifling a smile.