Priority Mail

6×10 Communication

First, let us establish I am not an ordinary mailing envelope. I am Priority Mail. I am important. People treat me differently when they see me in their mailboxes. Sometimes they laugh; sometimes they cry. There are the careful openers – and then the rude ones ripping me apart – and many times destroying my news inside.

I like when Apartment B – M. Cubelo sends me on a mission. She decorates my ‘6×10’ red-stripped envelope with funny stickers that make Melvin smile. That is good of her, because Mel doesn’t joke much anymore, he dislikes being a mailman as he gets older. He muses he used to be able to outrun a dog – but no longer.

When M. Cubelo reached into her mailbox on Saturday June 19^th, there was no mail for her, but a letter to the State of New Jersey sent by Ms. Appletans; delivered to M. Cubelo by mistake. She didn’t know this person but knew Mel wouldn’t be back until late Monday afternoon; then he would have to take the letter back to the sorting room – it could be days, even weeks before Ms. Appletans knew her letter did not reach the intended party.

I’m guessing here, with only my cardboard education; but I think anybody who puts ridiculous stickers on mailing envelopes would perhaps be thoughtful too. And I was right…

I was slipped confidently in the big blue mailbox on the corner of Elm & Cedar by 12:06 PM that day.  My ‘6×10’ journey should take only two days – but paper memories know that can be much longer a trip – all depends on what happens once I am fetched by a mailperson from wherever I am dwelling.

The mailbox was getting hot in the sun, making my slightly coated envelope bend in half. I hate when that happens. Hope a mailperson gets here soon; and has air conditioning set on high in the truck. Us Priority Mail envelopes get set near the front dashboard– at least at first. Sometimes a stupid driver will stop short in front of the truck – and packages and letters go all cattywampus.

I remember the time I ended up under a Styrofoam container of New Zealand Green Mussels on dry ice; the squeaking that box made sent chills right over my mailing label – not to mention the drivers horror stories of dry ice sticking to his toe.

By 4:05 PM that day I was retrieved and on my way to Ms. Appletans. I think this is going to be a good trip; providing the sorting center is buzzing with no mechanical problems. One time I got thrown off the conveyor belt into a dark creepy corner of the mail room and didn’t get to my destination for months.

I am cool inside the mail truck and spy no Styrofoam seafood containers to trap me should we encounter any abrupt stops. Resting snug in the leather bag, I began to wonder about my contents…

Will I bring her joy? Or when she reads my innards begin to cry. I hate when that happens.

Ms. Appletans must have a Priority Mail angel. My trip went smoothly and I arrived early on Monday morning. I sat on a small marble table, beside a rocking chair; red geraniums in blue pots on the floor of the porch.

Giving a brisk knock on the door; my driver returned to his truck. Their job was done.

I didn’t have to wait long. The front door was opened by a tiny grey-haired lady bundled in a fluffy white robe; her wrinkled pink face smiling when she saw me. Oh boy, I really hope my news is good. I didn’t think she would just rip me open; I waited to see what she would do.

Ms. Appletans gently picked me up with small dainty hands and brought me inside. It was a lovely room, bright and sunny – smelled good too. Maybe she would just set me down and forget me. I could stay on top of her desk – and just be a lazy ‘6×10’ envelope for a while, no urgent 2-day mission to accomplish.

“I will make us tea,” the little red mouth said. “Then we shall see what we shall see.”

Carefully using my intended tear line, Ms. Appletans pulled out my insides. I became nervous when her look became confused. Had I brought her something she couldn’t handle? But wait, muddled turned to a small smile when she read the handwritten note paperclipped to her own letter to the State of New Jersey, she had sent last week…

Dear Ms. Appletans,

My name is M. Cubelo. Your letter was placed in my mailbox by mistake. I know I would be beyond worried if I thought the state did not receive my correspondence.

I am sending it along to you Priority Mail, should it be important.

Pleasant day to you😊

Warm regards,
M. Cubelo

Ms. Appletans was very old and world weary but gratified by ‘M. Cubelo’s’ effort to see a mis-delivered letter – possibly very significant to the sender – returned back to its original source.

The End