Caring Means Sharing

October 17, 2013

My dad has a retirement job. He repairs Perkins Braillers. He has, however, decided that he’d like to retire from his retirement job in a few years, so he’s found an apprentice. In one of the mail carriers for my parents’ neighborhood. You see, a lot of Braillers come to my parents’ house by mail. And since he can ship them as Free Matter for the Blind, a lot of Braillers leave by mail, too. My parents have gotten to know their mail carriers pretty well.

Anyway, his apprentice was leaving one day last week, and on her way out the door, she called, “Paul, you have a package!” because a package had been left by the back door. Then she looked at it and repeated herself with one slight change. “Beth, you have a package!”

It was a care package from Lisa. I haven’t gotten a care package like this since I was in college. It contained everything a grieving mother might need. Chocolate covered almonds. Two novels. Two DVDs. (All four of the previous items falling into the “light and fluffy” category.) A box of tea. And, of course, a skein of yarn.

She sent this before I posted about Rams giving me knitting, I should add.

I’m halfway through one of the books. I have plans for the yarn (which has been wound into a ball). But I’m saving the chocolate almonds for when I go back to work. I think they’ll be perfect to have in my office.

And I know everyone wants to do something. And for everyone who has offered to cook, I’ll be going back to work soon, and I will appreciate not having to think about dinner every night. But I also know that I have friends who wish they could do something even though they are too far away – Chicago, Denver, Seattle, DC. I am not trolling for care packages. After all, everybody expresses love differently. For me, knowing that you’re out there, seeing a post on Facebook or a comment on the blog, those things do make me feel loved. But sometimes, a surprise box of frivolity is also a nice reminder.

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