the mailbox

NoWareGirl was always so excited on days when Harlan came up the porch steps. It was what she waited for every day, all the time. Not just her though. Her younger sister did too. First came the sound of rustling papers, then the scraping, followed by a hollow plunk. Sometimes it was just a tinny plink. But always it was followed seconds later, with a metal “CLANK!”  The old metal mailbox door would swing down hard on its hinge and announce the mail’s arrival. NoWareGirl had a mailbox built into her house - just to the right of the front door. It wasn’t like the ones people had on TV. You know, the ones that the mail truck drives right up to that have the little red flags on them? Her family’s mail went through a special chute…right through the wall and into her front hall coat closet. There was a special little door they could open and like “magic”, the mail would be there. She and her sister would sometimes fight over who could get the mail out of the box. Not that much was ever delivered with their names on it. They each just wanted to be the first one on the scene, ready to open the door and see if any mail spilled out.  Sometimes, pieces of mail would get stuck inside of the special chute and she’d have to stick her whole arm up inside of it to grab the mail and bring it down. And yes, sometimes she would rip the mail while doing this…but her mom didn’t stay mad about that for very long. On various occasions NoWareGirl would sit inside of that coat closet, in the dark and open up the mail door when no mail was behind it. It was like a secret door to the outside world. She would stick her face as close to the opening as she could so she could feel the breeze coming through the hole – and breathe in the fresh air as if it was the only way for her to survive. She liked doing that in the winter especially, when she had been trapped inside by the cold and snowy Chicago weather. At times she could see light coming through the chute from where the metal door at the top wasn’t shut all the way. It looked very pretty to her, all of that light streaming down its very imperfect path. Sometimes, in nicer weather, she and her sister would take turns talking to each other through the mail chute. One of them outside on the porch standing on that old, green, metal chair to be able to reach high enough. The other inside the closet, ear to the open wooden door. Their voices sounded miles away from each other. Like they were communicating through an old mine shaft. Well…that day anyways.  Other times it was a space ship…or a prison. And every once in a while they would pass notes through the mailbox to each other…fake mail. It could be anything they wanted it to be, that mailbox. Which is exactly why NoWareGirl will never forget it.