Special Delivery

It was dark inside the box. Only a few pinpricks of light would highlight an eye, a foot. I stood in the corner at first, but the others would press so much when the box tipped that I moved along one side. Along the way, I stepped on wetness- vomit or urine from one of the others.

It was cold. We were all taken out of the warmth and huddled together for any source of heat now. The others trembled. They shook me gently.

But the sounds- the sounds were scary. Sometimes screechy, sometimes rumbly. The screeches would pitch us forward, the rumbles would push us back.

Once the rumble pushed me back so hard I stepped on what could only be a face. But no sound came when it crunched, just a horrible stillness. One of the others. I moved away to the other wall, away from it.

It seemed to go on forever: this darkness, this coldness. I missed the warmth, the cool, clear water, and the regular meals. In the warmth, my sister was near me. In the warmth, we weren’t squished into corners by the others.

I yearned for light; light that was more than a spot. Light that filled up the whole day. And the warmth of my sister.

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The phone rang at 5am. Mary jumped out of bed and practically ran down the stairs. She wasn't sure what creaked more: the protesting stairs, or her trick hip. The coffee was still percolating away pleasantly, so she grabbed her prepacked cheese sandwich and shoved it into her coat pocket while her toes found her shoes.

She poured coffee into the travel mug, then phone, keys, wallet: and she was out the door at 5:05am. Not bad for an old broad.

Twenty minutes later, her jeep’s wheels practically rainbowed the gravel at the post office. She ignored all parking space lines. It hardly mattered; she was the only one there.

She could hear them before she could see the box. A few pleasantries with the sleepy new gal behind the counter, and they were safely in her arms. She could hardly wait to see.

Back outside, Mary placed the box gently on the back seat of the Jeep and peeked in. Eleven sets of striped eyes blinked back at her. She was greeted with a cacophony of cheeps and peeps. They had arrived at last! Her new babies!

Only one lay motionless and she gently removed it from the box, careful to set the lid down firmly lest anyone escape. Poor wee one, one of his legs looked smaller than the other, and his wing too. Whenever he was lost in transit, he'd had a rough go; he must have been trampled by his box mates. She lay him gently in the grassy surrounds of the parking lot.

Inside the box, the still one’s compatriots cheeped at her. They all looked very lively. A handful of feed from the bag that had waited patiently for them in the back seat for over a week quieted them immediately. She looked them over one by one. No other culling was needed here. All had two striped eyes, two wee wings, and two gorgeous matching webbed feet.

She pushed the box top back into place, making sure they were confined safely, then placed them down on the floor where they couldn't slide off the seat. On the other seat, the brown paper and string were waiting, her hand-lettering cheerfully calling out from the page, “Happy Birthday, Duckie.” She turned on the car; the jeep rumbled to life. 6:00 am. Driving nice and carefully she would be home by 6:30am. That would be plenty of time to wrap up her special delivery and bring it up to where her Duckie lay sleeping.

Mary smiled into the morning sun and drove the new ducklings home to her granddaughter.