In my defense, I was on pavement when it happened.
I was headed out, off to some chore I have long since forgotten. Approaching the turn up the hill the dark green Tacoma approaching me strayed wide. I eased closer to the curb, hoping to avoid a collision. Then… WHAM!!!!!
It was an amazingly loud sound, so loud I thought the truck and I had hit. But no, there it was in my rear-view, continuing down the street behind me. I pulled over, and got out to inspect for a burst tire, or whatever mishap had befallen me. My truck was unscathed, but the neighbor’s mailbox…. there it was, splayed in the middle of the lawn of the outside corner house.
It would be a tough repair. The post had shattered vertically along the grain. I’d have to dig out the old post and install a new one before topping it with a box. Visions of spending the next day, not at the mall updating my wardrobe as we had planned, but rather stewing under the hot summer sun enveloped in a swarm of mosquitos filled my mind. Close to tears, I picked up the chunks of broken wood and arranged them neatly at the base of the torn post. Once the wave of emotion passed, I left my contact info at the door.
I was back in Florida, with Marigold. When I had left back in March, our visit had felt unfinished. We were spending some more time together before I left for the EU portion of my journey. It was a nice but hectic week, the first the twins were out of school for the summer, and crunch time planning for her destination celebration for her mother’s seventieth. And up until that point my stay had been relatively uneventful, fast walking three miles in the morning, helping with the little ones during the day, minimal getting lost. I should have known it was too good to be true.
“You did what?!?!?”
This one was going to be tough to live down.
Marigold lives in a military neighborhood, where it is habit for the adults to gather after dinner to catch up and watch the children play. That night: good news, the local dark ops team, including one hubby four houses down, would be back late that night from wherever it was they had been. Word also spread that I was the one who finally took out the corner mailbox. Everyone, it seemed, had a story of their own. Later, Marigold and I came up with a plan for the next day, but I still went to bed frustrated, and a bit overwhelmed at the task before me.
After some good natured ribbing during our morning walk, M. left for a daycare run. She returned with some interesting news: at some point during breakfast and youngster-herding, someone had removed the old mailbox and installed a new base. Spirited by this small act of kindness and generosity, we had a fabulous time in town, trying on clothes, having a nice lunch (complete with lots of laughs), returning with bags filled with fab new outfits. In the evening (again after dinner as the little ones ran from yard to yard), we learned it had been our dark ops neighbor, still restless from his mission, who had helped me out.
Two days later, with the new mailbox in place, I was back on the road, on my way to the next stop on my trip: Portugal!
I enjoyed the photos. Thanks.