The Post Office

Photo Credit: Bundo Kim

This morning after washing the weekend’s dishes, loading the laundry, answering 27 texts, sweeping fallen bits of breakfast, warming my sick husband’s tea, taking my wildly energetic one-year-old to the doctor, I found myself at the post office with my wildly energetic one-year-old and two parcels to post. Seeing my son pulling out box after box, the teller offered a ready-made one. Seeing my son hooked to my hip while I attempted to tape a package one-handed, she gently took over. Seeing my frayed face, she unpeeled and posted my hand-written labels. Sometimes I wonder if angels wear camo baseball caps and neon-yellow Ray Bans.

This microblog is part of a current series called “Grace-glimpses.”