Tuesday, March 9, 2010

The continuing story - waiting for mail

He ordered something online.
It took him days to decide, but finally his own moaning about being bored won the race with his indecision.

He agreed on a payment program with his dad, with the intention never to pay him back, so we're expecting quite some evening spoiled on debating money issues.

Then the waiting started.

It would have been great if it had been a time of leaning backwards on the couch, with dropped eyelids, leaving just enough space to see some movement on the gardenpath.
Waiting can be such a relaxing state of mind.

He changed his complete life though.
His routine of bedtime behaviour was moved forward so he would wake up in time to wait for the mailman.

Often he woke up in the middle of the night, expecting to see it was day already. But instead all was dark and none was available for a quick vent.
His walking around in the house, speaking to himself, arousing his temper and then closing the door with a loud bang, woke everybody up. But alas, none of those white faces wanted to deal with him, except mine.
A mother's job is never done.

Each day he would sit on the couch at 9 in the morning.
In case the mailman had changed his routine, or another mailman might come early, or the mailservice might have changed sorting the mail from night to the evening before, so the mail would be early.

It never was.

After two weeks of waiting he told us that the game he ordered would be send on the evening before the official release, so that would have been yesterday evening.
I asked him why he waited so many days before.
"In case they would have decided to send it earlier."

He asked his father to check the tracking service yesterday evening, and had a meltdown because his game was not yet processed.
Can you imagine why my nice friendly mask changed into a stiff dark one with wrinkled eyebrows? One simple look at it made him leave the room. Phew!

This morning he was there again: on the couch. At 9.

Tuesday is the day of the leaflets, the free papers, 4 mailmen delivering mainly junk and bills and at least 4 mailcards driving around, never stopping for a delivery.

At 14.00 hours he left the room, mainly because he talked his ill sister into sleeping at his brother's bed, while he played an old game.

My coffee suddenly tasted a lot better now the statue was removed from my room.
Finally I was free to think without being disturbed by his complaints about the mailservices nowadays, (he's 18 not 80!), and his neverending sighs, and more complaints.

Suddenly the clocks could be heard again, the birds outside.
I could see a faint haze of sun on the branches in the garden, lighting up the last snow.

I tidied the room, now there was finally no chance to fall over two long legs with tremendous feet attached to them.

And then the bell rang.
The black scanner went over the package and then it landed swiftly in my hands.
I hardly noticed, because I was smiling back to the first person of real life society that entered my world in days.

His game has finally arrived.


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