Hello everyone! Time once again for another Christmas tale. I hope you enjoy the story.<\/p>\n
Hope everyone finds themselves in a joyful holiday season, and that 2009 brings only good things.<\/p>\n
– John<\/p>\n
THE FORGOTTEN MAILBOX<\/p>\n
Once Upon a time, perhaps, it was a thriving neighborhood, with bakers and bankers and businessmen, gangs of happy children, ice cream trucks, and sparkling dreams. But that was long ago. Now, it is mostly abandoned, and those who stay only stay for a brief time. They go either to better or worse places.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s a phone booth which hasn\u2019t had a dial tone since the 70\u2019s or earlier. There\u2019s an old car that\u2019s melted into the street and seems to float on cracked asphalt like an iceberg. There\u2019s a mailbox which has not been on any postman\u2019s route for as long as the postmaster himself has been alive.<\/p>\n
And there\u2019s a girl\u2013we\u2019ll call her Sue\u2013who writes a simple letter to Santa. Sue\u2019s a quiet girl, and has moved with her parents so frequently she barely knows her own name.<\/p>\n
The letter says:<\/p>\n
Dear Santa, Please send me a doll and a friend.<\/p>\n
When she goes to drop it in the box, there\u2019s a boy\u2013we\u2019ll call him Joe. \u201cAin\u2019t nobody ever sends letters through that box no more,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo one to pick \u2018em up. No one to deliver \u2018em. So no one ever gets what you send.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSome things get sent no matter who picks them up,\u201d she tells him, showing that the letter is addressed to Santa at the North Pole.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s all fun and games,\u201d Joe says, \u201cbut that\u2019s more a rustbox than a postbox anymore, and no one\u2019s gonna get your letter, not even the Big Guy himself. Anyway, look around you, we\u2019re right at the heart of nowhere. No one comes here who ain\u2019t lost.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not lost,\u201d she tells him.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd anyways,\u201d Joe adds, \u201cChristmas is tomorrow.\u201d You wouldn\u2019t know it, not there, as no lights decorate the street, no tinsel hangs from any tree, and no trees have made it into the cramped little apartment holes.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019ll get it,\u201d Sue stubbornly says. \u201cAnd he\u2019ll come.\u201d<\/p>\n
The mailbox doesn\u2019t open easily, or soundlessly, but it opens, and she drops the unstamped envelope into the mailbox.<\/p>\n
Next day, bright and early–because even in a place where dreams seem as forgotten as a rusty old abandoned mailbox, children rise early\u2013Sue rushes to the street corner. Her parents had given her something small and practical, like socks, and something for each of them\u2013and one of those things is the seed of hope though they don\u2019t yet know it. Sue rushes to the box thinking perhaps something might\u2019ve been left for here there. She finds Joe.<\/p>\n
\u201cMorning,\u201d he says, grinning. It\u2019s the way he\u2019s always grinned, in all the hours she\u2019s known him.<\/p>\n
\u201cMorning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, did the Big Guy come?\u201d Joe asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cI got socks,\u201d she tells him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI got underwear.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s useful,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
\u201cVery.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnything else?\u201d she asks. He shakes his head. Sue frowns, because socks are nothing like a doll. She climbs onto her tiptoes and opens the squeaky mailbox, but the slot is too narrow and the insides too dark. She sees nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Joe says. \u201cI know I said he wouldn\u2019t come, and he didn\u2019t, but I really wish he did.\u201d<\/p>\n
She lets the box slam shut, and the bottom half\u2013the locked bit, from which the postmen of old would\u2019ve collected the mail\u2013that bottom half swings open a mere quarter inch. It\u2019s enough to stop Joe. It\u2019s enough to pique their interest. It\u2019s enough to make Sue open the forgotten mailbox. The shadows inside are deep, and drip like syrup, and it\u2019s hard to see through the gloom and the spider webs and the dry, cough-filled air. The dust finally settles to reveal two bright packages. One\u2019s green, and labeled Joe. The red one says Sue.<\/p>\n
Joe opens his present. It\u2019s an old book, in fair condition, its spine crinkled but the title and author clear. If this was Joe\u2019s story, you\u2019d understand why it wets his eyes with tears, and why he\u2019ll treasure that paperback for the rest of his life.<\/p>\n
Sue opens hers. It\u2019s a doll. She doesn\u2019t know it yet, but it\u2019s just like the doll her mom had when she was Sue\u2019s age, and it may in fact be the very same doll. But it\u2019s a smiling doll, and a smiling Sue, and a smiling if tearful Joe. With great care and no small bit of reverence, Sue closes the mailbox door, and checks to see that it\u2019s locked itself once again. She whispers so that only the forgotten mailbox can hear, and says, \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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