Mailbox #7205

I flip the package over a few times to see if any other marks or indications may give me a clue as to what's in it and who sent it. Whoever it is must know me well to send it via a non-traditional method; drone, and with no postmark, return address, or stamps. The clear wide tape covers the end and back seams, giving me the impression that someone took their time wrapping it. The package is light and feels like nothing is inside, and I shake it to listen; there's a slight rustling sound but little to no movement of whatever is in there. My intrigue and curiosity play at the edges of my imagination as I eye the package.

I grabbed the rest of my mail and began the mile walk back to my house, relishing the fact that it was a warm winter day, the snowstorm slated to start later on in the evening; I was doing things to prepare for a few days of indoor hibernation, gathering the mail was one. Looking at the package, I thought quickly that the person who sent it must have paid attention to the weather and my routine of going to get the mail before a massive snowstorm.

Hmm.

My mind goes around and around as I walk and mindlessly trace the black magic marker lettering on the package. I've been living here for ten years, having left my previous life to escape the hustle and bustle of so many people. Choosing to move was a tough decision, yet something I had to do for myself; I thought I'd tied up all loose ends before leaving, but maybe there was someone I had forgotten. I started to get excited and nervous, wondering more about the package, beginning to talk to myself, quickening my pace to get home- wanting to open it right away.

Did I have a secret admirer? I'm single, go out on dates, and enjoy myself, so if there were a secret admirer, who would it be? Hmm. Maybe the guy at the local corner store? He's cute.

Is it from my family? No. My sister wouldn't send me anything; if she did, it'd be appropriately addressed.

Or is it something random, like maybe the neighbors are hosting a party, and this is their way of playfully inviting me? My neighbors would do something like that because they're a little crazy in a good way.

Pulled out of my deep thoughts by a black Ford F-150 coming the other way, I waved as Gabe-one of my crazy neighbors-drove by grinning mischievously from ear to ear and waving happily back at me, which made me 100% believe that for sure this package was from him and his wife, Gail. They were having a big shindig, and this was their way of being silly. That must be it. It had to be. Who else would send me something? There was no one else.

Convinced Gabe and Gail were the senders, I relaxed and rounded the final bend to my house, making a pitstop at the woodpile to bring in wood. Knowing there'd be several trips in and out of the house, I tossed the mail and package on the deck; I'd get it when I was done. I no longer had that initial excitement or nervousness- after all, it's Gabe and Gail- quiet neighbors who like to have a party now and then. Of course, I could be entirely off base.

I looked at the package between collecting wood and doubt slowly crept in with each trip into and out of the house.

What if Gabe and Gail aren't the senders, and maybe they know who the sender is, which is why he was grinning when he drove by? Do I know someone in common with them other than the circle of people who always go to their parties?

Hmm. Do I? I can't think of anyone.

Again, my mind whirls as I go in and out of the house with armloads of wood, casually glancing at the package each time, noticing curious excitement beginning to return, and after a while, a burning desire to rip it open almost takes over, I finish my chore with deliberate steps. I do my best to tame my enthusiasm about what's in the box as I enter the house with it.

I prolong the unknown a bit more and putz around, making a cup of tea, feeding the animals, and getting a fire going, all the while letting my imagination and anticipation run wild about the who, why, and what. Finally, I take the package and sit on the couch with it and a pocket knife, flipping the box over again, tracing the lettering, and feeling the smoothness of the brown paper. I close my eyes and run through every person I've had contact with, and at the last moment, before I open them, a name fleetingly crosses my mind.

Roger Starling.

Could this possibly be from him?

It had been many years since I last saw him, remembering our time as a kindred soul connection, spending quality time together, and bonding in a way that I nor he had had with anyone else. Yet, I knew we were in different places in our lives, and going by the saying if you love something, set it free, and if it's meant to be, it'll come back, we agreed to go separate ways. I've often thought about him with a big smirky smile several times over the years, wondering how he was, what he was doing, and that he must be happily moved on and settled in with his life.

If the package is from Roger, I wonder why.

Maybe I'm off base in thinking that he's moved on, I don't know. If he isn't settled in with someone maybe he remembers how awesome our unique connection is and is looking to reestablish something or explore it further. The more I mull it over in my head, the more I notice myself desiring and wanting to see him again. As I open my eyes and look at the box one final time before using the knife to gently slice the tape from the ends and back seam, something inside of me turns on, lights up, and fills with hope. I watch as the brown paper slips away to expose yet another plain brown box, with a lid and no writing.

Still not completely certain of who the sender is, (the new brown box void of any hints), I slowly take the lid off and place it to the side, immediately and pleasantly greeted with the sight and scent of a box filled with pieces of wild sweet fern.

A soft knowingness spreads across my face, and the lines around my eyes crinkle with happiness; I bury my face in the box for a deep sniff. I know without a shadow of a doubt that the package is from Roger; him being the only person on the planet that knows how much I love sweet fern, often bringing me bunches of it years ago when we saw each other.

Memories of our time together flood my mind, and I anticipate his arrival sometime soon, knowing he's smart, has watched the weather, and has an eye on my routine; I can guarantee that he is on his way simply because I know he won't be able to resist the connection that makes us, us.