The package that should have been on the front porch was missing.
I passed the mailman in his little truck on the way home, so I knew that I only missed him by minutes. Yet, it might as well have been a lifetime for whatever had transpired in that time was enough to change the course of Christmas.
It wasn’t the mailman’s fault. To his credit, he encouraged us to start using a tote placed inconspicuously next to the door during this holly, jolly package stealing season. Of course, we procrastinated, hence the Leaf Peeper situation, and now this missing package.
Fortunately, we did have a square shaped, plastic contraption with a lid meant to keep a hose neatly rolled like thread on a spool. It was close enough to the porch that the mailman might have tucked a package into the box to keep it safe from any number of dangers.
I flipped the lid open in hopeful anticipation, only to find a knotted bundle of hose. Still the package was missing. I felt a sinking feeling, certain that package thieves were responsible, already celebrating their loot as I began to accept the loss.
After the last Amazon fiasco, my husband’s birthday present ended up in a warehouse in China, apparently still there two months later, according to the tracking number. Now, his Christmas present faced a worse fate as it was carried off by a roving group of punk-grinches.
“Not again,” I yelled and shook my fists towards the sky in hopes that the Amazon gods would hear my cry and show mercy on the A to Z claim I was about to file.
Sure, I have a tendency to gravitate towards the dramatic, but this was serious.
I pulled my key out to unlock the door and found it was already unlocked and pushed the door open.
Lights were on and old-timey country Christmas music played in the background. My husband appeared, “Looking for this?” he asked.
He held out a raggedy package with a missing corner. It felt damp like it was used to clear the snow from the mailman’s windshield before being tossed into the back of the truck, but it was intact. The missing package was found and Christmas was restored.
Thankfully, the package thief was none other than the intended recipient, my husband, who had no idea how close he was to unwrapping a potato with an IOU pinned to it come December 25th.