One's Own Package

During the freezing, breezy winter periods round a land far away, I was starting work on a casual but usual brisky morning. I had just finished breakfast and left my timber cabin, as wide as a pond and large as a bungalow in the middle of nowhere but between mountainous regions below that could easily be mounted on by an avalanche occurred but luckily by cabin was just high enough to be lain on a large hill, although the annoying part was having to walk down steadily to the bottom without slipping and tumbling downwards to make my way to work.

I work as a postman and I travel half a mile passing by the woods of snow-covered pine trees, icy yards of boulders and over a rough steep hill to the nearest town of Lone-Lake. The town was bleak, miserable, and seemed quite poor as to living in such frigid frozen conditions, even when a large lake was not far away from the town. The people were more neutral than friendly but seemed to just mind their own businesses to tend to their own well beings and beverages of much warmth and comfort as possible. Even I myself didn't really have any friends at this town but never really bothered with one another to cause chilly or bitter atmospheres but always kept the civil ship of one another.

The saddest yet barely unnoticeable part of the town, was that there was a homeless elderly woman sitting and quite frankly living in an undisturbed area where piles of chopped wood lay near an abandoned wooden farmhouse, she lived of out of the garbage disposals, would only receive one meal a week through random acts of kindness (which was rare) and was given very little support of the town as she had no one else to fend off for. The only thing I ever did for the homeless old lady which would only be about every three to four days, would toss a coin in her empty bean can to at least buy herself a decent meal or just enough to save up for a place to stay, a roof over her head and a bed to sleep in for the night at the inn of the Mauling Bear.

I arrived at the post office on time to check in, collect all the letters and parcels placed in an oak coloured sack that would now weigh about five and a half pounds, and then take them outside to set them all down on a wooden sledge ready to make my way to the next town which was eleven miles from here.

The journey would be tiring and depleting, but at least I had the stamina and activity to keep up and keep going regardless of the tiring journey there and back, after all I was used to it. I even brought a flask of water with me to stay hydrated, it wouldn't even matter if the water was ice cold or warm as it would keep me on my feet and prevent my mouth from being dry.

The next town was no different compared to Lone-Lake as it was more crowded with people casually walking by heavily, almost clearer with all the roads and housing roofs snow free and seemed more busier than most. After completing the days shift there posting the items to almost every house at the village and collecting more postage items to be sent to Lone-Lake, I travelled back there as I regularly trudge through deep snow and hopefully a blizzard doesn't catch me of guard to end up being lost, but the weather looked to be on my side for the day.

Once I travelled back to Lone-Lake and after posting every letter and parcel to the whole town so casually yet got the job done rather quickly, it seemed like a day finished, until I noticed there was one remaining parcel left. The package was rather small, brown, wrapped thoroughly and had minor scratches on them as though it had been nudged against sharp corners or walls whilst travelling along way to send.

The problem was is that there was no address to the package nor with a label with any particular postcode, I did however notice some ink spilled on to the side and the ink revealed a name of Bernadette. I had no idea who Bernadette was or know anyone in this town who went by that name and so after delivering all the other post items, I went round asking most of the civilians in town to ask anyone of Bernadette and if they were expecting a suspicious yet seemingly secured small parcel. There was no look as everyone else just nodded "no" or not even bother to acknowledge the parcel when showing it to them.

I was on the verge of giving up and thought to just return it to the post office for them to find out about the package, until I heard a voice from behind from where the empty barn-house was with all the piles of chopped log. The voice sounded briskly, old and seemingly desperate and as though it was broken down having to speak loud enough for someone to hear like calling for help.

I turn around and I see the homeless old lady sat down with a thick, stained mud-coloured blanket with a plastic mug in her hands with steam emerging out of it (presumably drinking tea). She sat as though she was fighting the hyperthermia of the weather like she had just survived from drowning from an icy lake. I approach her slowly and tentatively and asked if she was the woman's name of the parcel as she replied with a nod "yes". I don't bother to intervene a conversation with her, no she with me and so I placed the package to one side and walked away leisurely, however I did stop to turn around to her and simply to say with words of dignity and pleasantness to say, "Keep warm, stay safe". She nodded her head with a hopeful smile raising her mug to say, "Thank you" and then I left her to it, strolled through the post office to check out for the day's work and then head back to my lodge trying to forget about the day and focus on the warmth and comfort of my lodge for a good night's rest.

The next morning was another ordinary briskly Sunday, only the sun shined brighter than the last weekdays lighting up the lands that lay flat of the milky snow of icy crop when walking leisurely and gradually upon it. I was off work that day, but I needed some food and beverages from the towns market and after arriving there with my sledge to carry for the supplies and food, the town seemed awfully quite than most days and there was hardly anybody in sight of the town as it was less busy than last week, and everybody seemed to be indoors. I looked around and the atmosphere was weirder and stranger than shocked or surprised yet nothing to be alarmed of, maybe it was like this either way since it was on a Sunday as only a few residents would be working at this time in these bright early hours.

I had just left the market with enough edible material, until the post office manager approached me from just outside the market. Before I could object into saying that I had the day off work, he simply came up to me in a fair-minded but polite manner and handed to me a strange parcel the size of a tissue box.

The parcel didn't seem wrapped up properly and firmly, the tape was slightly loose, pieces of brown wrapping was hanging out, it felt light as paper than of an empty box and there was a pencil script at the bottom written out as "To the young man of the post". The post office manager informed me that it was from someone he did not know without a name or even an address to where it came from and then he walked back to the post office, I was rather perplexed and minorly shocked of this, I scanned the post package like a lost puzzle and to think why someone without a name would send me a suspicious item like this, I rarely receive any parcels, packages or even any mail (besides from family letters far from my original home). So without question or thought with befuddlement, I toss the package to my sledge with all my food and beverages and make my way back to my lodge.

The most strangest thing that caught my eye on the way back though just before leaving town, was that the mysterious old homeless woman was nowhere to be seen at the empty wooden farmhouse, all there was were fewer log piles and nothing else in which the elderly lady would leave behind, although I don't take this thought and gaze too seriously or go deep into thought of the subject as I was trying to keep up my stamina in trying to carry the heavy load on the sledge back to my lodge.

Later that afternoon, I lay on my coach and the realisation of suspicious mysterious package I left on the sack of my slay crossed my mind again, so after sitting back down on my coach with I the small slightly unwrapped parcel, I firstly shake the parcel like a handshake if there really was anything inside. There seemed to be something in the brown parcel but still unsure of what, so I begin to unwrap and peel all the paper and tape off, but I do this slow and cautiously as a thought of warning and concern crossed my mind, with the judgment of the parcel not left concealed accordingly from whoever sent it to me. After unwrapping the parcel taking my time, I reveal out of the box into my hand a strange yellowy, brownish, scrunched leaf that was as tall as the palm of my hand and the shape of a pear but in a different texture of colour.

At first, I was befuddled completely, but when I turn the leaf round to see the back, there was some writing of ink that small I had to bring the leaf closely to my eyes to see better and read on it. It read, "From Bernadette, you have been blessed by me with your humbleness and kindness you gave with your effort in life of your strong thoughts, I don't wish for my body to be found but at least I have gone to a better place now all I can say is thank you". I couldn't believe it at all, it sounded like her last words, and she left them to me on a leaf, we hardly ever knew each other though, I was just a postman, and she was a poor homeless woman that would see no help or see any hope in the world at all and so she was gone, what had happened to her?

She was gone, her body was gone as said and written on the leaf she really was gone, she was not there at the farmhouse with the logs, all traces of her gone. Goosebumps crawled from the breezy air, my jaw ajar, completely quiet, gobsmacked and speechless I was left.