Mail For Mr. Fuller

Martha Maroney delivered mail to 45 Old Tower drive six days a week. Well, she delivered mail to half of Salem, but 45 Old Tower drive was the only house that gave her butterflies every time she stopped there; all because of Terrance M. Fuller.

She had been delivering mail for almost forty years now, and every single day she enjoyed the sight of old Mr. Fuller, waiting in the window of his baby blue raised ranch, watching for the mail. She could see his friendly smile, that lingered just beyond those hideous green shutters. She loved the way he put both hands on his cane while waiting for her, and she loved even more the way he lifted a few pale wrinkly fingers in salute as she drove away. Sometimes, if she drove slow she could see him hobbling out to the mailbox in her rear view mirror.

You could say Martha and Mr. Fuller had a special sort of relationship, seeing, and only seeing, each other six days a week. But secretly, she longed to introduce herself to him. Every time she thought of actually trying to talk to him, she looked down at her unattractive Post Office jumper, and reluctantly drove away.

Perhaps she knew more about him than she ought to. She knew he had a subscription to a golfing magazine. She knew he had the same little brown car for far too long. She knew he loved to wear tacky crocheted sweaters, even in the summer. She knew companies often misspelled his first name, leaving out the second R when sending him a letter. She knew there used to be a Mrs. Fuller, but one day about 15 years ago, her car left and people stopped sending her mail to 45 Old Tower drive. She knew he was lonely, because the even at Christmas, he hardly received any cards. She had only look at her own wrinkly ring lacking fingers to be reminded of what loneliness feels like.

One cloudless Saturday summer morning, Martha turned onto Old Tower drive as she always did, smiling to herself as she made her way down the street. Still smiling as she passed Mrs. Turner on her front step, hands on her hips. She tood stood in her bathrobe with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, as usual.

She heard the ambulance before she saw it. Pulling up to the curb in front of his house, she sat in her truck stunned, for almost 30 minutes even after the ambulance wailed away. When she finally came back to reality, she realized there were tears dropping onto Mr. Fuller's mail. She gingerly put his mail in his mailbox, and drove away wondering if those were the last letters he would ever receive.

The Swings

Chains hanging limp
denying captivity
Hundreds of chains
metal clinking
aimless chatter
waiting.

and then all of the sudden
You're lifted off the ground
bare feet enthusiastically
dangling

Arms spread wide
chin up -
eyes to the heavens
on God's glorious roller coaster.

And then the whole world becomes silent
for a minute.

And everyone is instantly united in that joy.

spinning faster

into a dizzied awareness.

There He is,

Taking pleasure in our delight-

within us

and around us-

At the swings.

Inspiration For This Blog

This is one of my favorite songs ever. The lead singer has a unique voice, but don't let that scare you away.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCkT4K-hppE- Blog Title Inspiration

Samson's Blanket

Grizzly, unshaven Samson sulked through the doorway and sank into his worn-out couch. He turned on the crackling radio and let his tattered but effective comforter inspect his frozen limbs. He kicked off his slippery boots and pressed his frostbitten fingers onto his vibrant cheeks, pulling his blanket even tighter around his neck. Broken Christmas carols bobbed ambivalently throughout his tiny living room. The only other piece of furniture was the chipped and stained piano that had not felt the warmth of lively fleeting fingers for years now; it sat eagerly in the corner. A single lamp hung by the ice encumbered window, a beacon to the traveling flakes outside.

There used to be knocking on the doors, the smell of a meal cooking in the kitchen, and too many guests in an already cramped home. There used to be laughter, but Samson was the last one left of his family and he had no one to share his time with anymore. Where he sat, happiness was nothing but an echo; leaving no proof it was ever there at all.

Kingdom

We’ll meet again someday
Same time and place
The hill where daisies sway
That’s where we’ll embrace

The starry night we find
Heaven we do seek
Our fingers I entwine
We wander down the creek

Through the vast hills we reign
Birds sing; natures concert hall
Behind the forest, across the plain
An empty carousal

We’ll meet again once more
I promise that to you
No other man can portray
The kingdom that we knew

The Indigo Above

Wander off the road
into the empty woods
to lay down this heavy load
and leave it there for good

Angels whisper on a cloudless night
about how the ocean twinkles
Forever serenading the yellow starlight
With its waves like discreet wrinkles

In the forest, this placid pond
Reflects the wonder in our eyes
We continue into the beyond
Finding deeper charcoal skies

To view this world, from up above
Would be the greatest pleasure
A vision that would remind us of
Every living treasure

An aimless venture, no regrets
A blissful celebration of love
The trees like solid black silhouettes
against the glowing indigo above