Waiting for the Mailman

November 13th, 2008 by Sara

I am Olivia the Pig, in Olivia and the Missing Toy.

Waiting for her mother to finish sewing a new soccer jersey, Olivia “waited, and waited, and waited … until she was too exhausted to wait any longer.” (Olivia, on floor, hands splayed in “exhausted” pose.)

Is he here yet? Is he here yet? How about now? Unless we finagle an afternoon destination out, I will check, and check again, as if somehow the mailman will, today, reroute himself to my door three hours earlier than usual. I can’t seem to help myself.

I wait, of course, for checks promised, much delayed.

The household cash flow projection in shreds.

Still, all will be repaired, if only today already he would come.

I am Sylvia Plath: “My heart leaps, when I see a mailman on the street.”