CERTIFIED MAIL

Here’s a little story I was going to include in my upcoming book, but at the suggestion of writer friends, I’ve pulled it and worked on it a bit more, to give my readers a more complete picture.

CERTIFIED MAIL

One sunny afternoon Mavis Gilbert took her cane and set off to visit her good friend Annie Mitchell. Since Mavis’s husband Charlie passed away, the two ladies had fallen into the habit of having afternoon tea together at three, after Mavis got up from her nap.

Annie welcomed Mavis in and soon she was seated at the table while Annie brewed some tea. “I hope you’re fond of banana bread,” said Annie as she sliced some cheese. “I asked George to pick up some biscuits at the supermarket when he went yesterday, but it seems he forgot.”

“One of his senior moments?” Mavis asked. “I understand them all too well; my forgetter is working overtime these days, too.”

“Tell me about it. And George is so good to do things for me, I didn’t want to mention his lapse. Thankfully our daughter stopped in this morning and brought us this fresh loaf of banana bread.”

“All’s well that ends well. And it’s a treat for me. I’m very fond of banana bread.”

Annie carried two cups of tea to the table, then set the plate of bread and cheese in front of Mavis. She took a couple of napkins from the counter, picking up several envelopes as well. “Just help yourself, Mavis. I hope you don’t mind if I address these letters. I want to get George to mail them when he goes for his walk, which he usually does about his time.”

“Go right ahead,” said Annie as she set a slice of cheese on her banana bread. “You’ve written quite a few, too. Good for you. I need to send some letters off myself, but it’s so easy to procrastinate.”

Annie fanned out the envelopes, copied addresses on them from her address book, and put a stamp on each. Then she closed her book and Mavis watched her address the last envelope to Mrs A Mitchell.

When she saw her friend write her own address on the letter, Mavis’ curiosity was piqued. “Are you mailing a letter to yourself?”

Annie looked around and lowered her voice. “As I said, George is a bit forgetful. But I don’t want to always be asking him, ‘Did you remember to mail those letters?’ So I devised this system: I always slip one in that’s addressed to myself. If it doesn’t come back to me in a few days I know I’d best look in the car or his jacket pocket to see where my letters have stayed.”

Mavis chuckled. “Now that’s a great idea. I’m going to pass it on to my daughters for when senior moments hit their households. If we try, we can often find a kind way around our loved ones’ failings.”

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