Some mornings I am awakened by the sound of a softly mumbling muffler making a curve on the road outside. It is always between 4:30 and 4:45. I have worked it out in my mind that it is the car and driver which delivers the town's free newspaper, wrapped in a blue plastic sleeve.
Usually it is a Tuesday.
I think about that driver/delivery person: a kid? a woman? a guy? two people? Up and out in the wide world before sunrise.
Throwing their route; going home to have breakfast, their day well-begun; off to the ''rest'' of their day...maybe back to bed for a snooze?
The dog and I will walk down to the gate to pick up yesterday's mail and the news, left by an unknown.
I wonder if I perhaps DO know the 'Thrower'? Do our paths cross somewhere other than my driveway, some days/nights? If so, I don't actually know this other person; I know the role they play in my life: Thrower of the newspaper.
That stretches my mind to wonder how far does MY role reach out into Others' lives?
That question makes me want to be a bit more careful of my actions; some day I might just meet the Thrower and I do want to be able to say: thank you for bringing the wide world so quietly to my gate!
I hope that Others' who might meet me as a person, not a role player, will feel kind toward me too.
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