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"Good Morning, Mrs Perkins!"
"Good Morning to you, Jim"
Jim Elliot handed over a small bundle of letters, then seamlessly
reached into his pouch for the small brown parcel the he knew would
light up his morning. "Oh, and I think you may be interested in
. . ."
"My Bulbs! They've come. Oh Jim, spring is just around the
corner". And with that Mrs Elvira Perkins broke into a smile
that lit up the morning like the warm sunshine that was bathing every
corner of every block on each of the quite tree lined streets of
Deerfield. And with a twinkle and a smile and a tip of his blue cap,
Jim Elliott continued on his rounds. Yes, all of that mumbo-jumbo
about snow and sleet and dark of night was sure true; but in the
first week of March, when the sky turned blue and the sun shined
bright, it was easy to forget that some of the yards still had a
small patch of snowpile (here or there in some corner), and that it
was just two short weeks ago that a scarf and long-johns were the
only thing to make your day warm.
Jim had been delivering these same ten blocks for over eight years,
and considered them a chance opportunity when Mr White had retired.
Benny White had bid on this route for the previous twelve years and
as his retirement approached he needed to drive the route in his Mail
Car to hold all the cookies and gifts and good wishes from the people
that were not only customers and neighbors, but were also friends.
And that is how they treat Jim these days, and how they have since
the very first morning he filled in after Mr White. Benny and his
wife moved south just a month after retiring, and those two kids
religiously send a Christmas card and a summer post card to the
station, each proudly thumbtacked in the coffee room for all to
enjoy. Benny was a man that always saw the best in every person and
every situation, and you can still hear his voice in the brief notes
about a cruise or a visitor or a friend they made at church. Jim had
an open invitation to go visit Bennie and Sal, but a trip down south
is for winter, not the first warm day of early early spring. Next
year for sure, Jim thought, and a smile crossed his face as he
stepped aside to let a mother push her baby stroller (with twins in
matching outfits) past his mail cart.
There was nothing that made Mrs Perkins unusual from the other folks
on his rounds, other than her delightful personality and magazine
cover quality front yard. Every year her flower beds were a constant
delight from the earliest buds in spring (the daffodils were just
poking green), to the last autumn asters. Somehow, she managed to
have each week bring forth a new color and pattern, if you took time
to look. It was like a slow-motion, summer-long, fireworks show. Jim
knew to look, and it made his job that much easier and his bundle
just a little lighter to carry.
Jim was now the longest tenured postman at Deerfield station, having
started as summer vacation fill-in back in college, then the three
years of substitute and part-time while trying to turn his degree in
English Literature into a paying job. But after five years, he
started to have regular routes and familiar smiling faces. At ten and
fifteen, he could start to pick his favorite neighborhoods. And now
for the last eight years, it has been the houses at Fox Crossing,
with their small walks and sculpted lawns and smiling faces. This job
had long ago stopped being work for Jim Elliot.
Back when he started, teachers coming out of college were "dime
a dozen" and jobs, especially English, were hard to find. It was
a terrible choice to have to make, but with Elly pregnant and the
bills stacking up, there was just no more time for another year of
substitute teacher pay. They needed a regular income, and it was time
to do a little growing up and act like a husband, and a father. Now
it was Elly that was substitute teaching, with the kids all grown and
pictures of five bouncy grandchildren ready to jump out of his wallet
at the smallest mention. Nowadays everybody is begging for teachers,
but he has the best route in all of Deerfield. And Jim gets all the
English Literature he needs reading Bronte and Dickinson over bagels
and coffee with Elly. Today is not a day to worry about the past or
to ponder the funny tricks that life plays on you, setting out one
way then careening another. No, today is day to unzip your jacket and
unbutton your collar and to tip your hat and smile at the sun.
Mrs Perkins was right; spring is just around the corner in Deerfield.
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