The last mailbox at the end of the way

For some time, our office staff has known with a sense of sadness our mail route was the least desirable in Abilene. I am not sure why. We try to be nice, with coffee in the morning, cold water in the afternoons and all the bathrooms any living person could want. But, sadly since our long term mailman retired seven years ago, we have been passed from carrier to carrier. No one has carried us long.

So, it was with a mild sense of betrayal that I went downtown last week and found our newest route man working in the "information/passport" office. I knew what that meant. We were dumped again.

So, I was in the office when the mail was brought later in the week. A nice young man stopped in and asked if he could use the facilities and we pointed them out. He came back with our mail and I asked him if we were losing our carrier again. He acknowledged what I already knew. We were orphaned again. However, to help us feel better, he said that although he was not the regular route carrier, he was familiar with our route.

I guessed that was meant to make us all feel better.

However, it went south when he said, "I used to deliver mail when the old pastor was here. I would bring it from next door." Our secretaries were standing there chatting with him and Helen (our receptionist) explained that the house next door was ours and missionaries often came and went and mail delivered to them after they left the residence was brought to our office.

I looked at this young man who must had been in his late twenties and quickly did the math. I asked, "You brought mail when the old pastor was here?" He replied, "Yes, that was three or four years ago."

I smiled as did Helen. I have learned to put up with a lot over the years being prematurely bald and prematurely gray and prematurely everything. I called his name and said, "I have been the pastor here for 15 years, and, well, _______ I am the old pastor who was here!"

Sadly, I fear, there goes another carrier.