Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Got your back

Standing in line at the Post Office Sunday*, I noticed the lady in front of me continually turning to look behind us at the doors. At first I reckoned she was, like everyone else, glancing back to see how long the line - which stretched past the entrance - was getting. But she kept turning every minute or so, like clockwork, her brow knitted. She was sending a brightly-colored box, the "From" area marked "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" in the manner of a relative trying to surprise, say, a small child who'll get the package. I thought that was a sweet little touch on her part. Thoughtful.

Continuing to turn back towards the doors, now more frequently as the minutes inched along and the lobby grew stuffy with the heat of so many straggling weekend mailers packing the Post Office, the lady was looking a bit desperate. An elderly man, using a cane, hobbled in the doors.

"I'm right here, Pa," she called out to him, waving a hand. "I"m right here!" The man nodded slightly, then went back outside. The line continued its path to nowhere. I felt for her because truth was, there was nothing she could've done to really get to her father - not quickly - even if something had happened to him. We were packed in there tight. She was operating under a false sense of security but it was all she had.

When I left - before her, actually - I saw the father sitting on a large planter outside, contentedly whistling to himself in the spring sunshine, cane propped beside him.

"Your daughter's been looking for you," I said to him, smiling. "I figured you'd sat down somewhere to take a break." He smiled and chuckled.

This time his daughter worried for nothing. But I know how it is. You look back again and again because this time might be the slip, the fall, the trip to the emergency room, the surgery, the long hospital or rehab stay, the eventuality of having to say a final goodbye, the realization that one day we'll have no one to look out for and possibly no one to check the doors, making sure we're OK somewhere out there.

*Yes. Sunday.

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