The Delivery In Late Winter

I would be lying if I said to you, "This is just a job to me." Week after week, with snow still piled high on both sides of the walkway, I bring supplies to your house, and you tell me the mounds are so tall you can only see my black fedora when I approach your door. "It's funny, " you laugh. "We only see a black hat bouncing above the whiteness. But we know it's you, and that's reassuring." Oh, yes, I'm thinking later, it is reassuring to have one person who never fails you, even in small matters. It almost brings me to tears to be so trusted. I distribute the supplies you are entitled to, and give each of your kids an extra bag of chocolate hearts. I often wish I could give you a gift of candy hearts, a heartfelt gift I mean. But that is not the way things are. We live in times of survival, not happiness, and I must be content to be your rescuer, and not your special friend. Do you linger at the door watching my fedora vanishing in the snow?