The Package

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“Hello? Yes, I think there’s a bomb outside my house.”

“Did you say a bomb, sir?”

“Yes! A bomb, on my front porch! I don’t know what to do. You need to get someone over here right now!” The caller said desperately.

The old man provided his name and address to the operator before hanging up his landline and going out the backdoor to pace on the sidewalk, eyeing the questionable package all the while. Within ten minutes a single squad car pulled up in front of the house, though this wasn’t nearly quick enough of a response for the man. Even more to his dismay, the officers calmly exited their vehicle and approached the clearly anxious man at what seemed like a snail’s pace.

“Sir, did you report a bomb?”

“Yes, it’s there by the front door,” the elderly man pointed to the entrance of his home where a seemingly ordinary package, wrapped in brown paper sat.

“Are you sure that isn’t just the mail, sir? What makes you think it’s a bomb?” One of the officers asked skeptically.

“It’s suspicious! I’m not expecting any mail and I don’t have anyone that would send me anything. It must be one of those lunatics like you see on the television. Maybe they just haven’t caught this man yet!”

The officers eyed the perfectly wrapped package. To them it seemed completely ordinary, but the homeowner was so obviously concerned that they questioned if it really could be a bomb. They considered calling the bomb squad to investigate, but it would be inappropriate to call them in without any evidence.

“Did you see if the package was sent by mail?”

“No, there’s no writing on it at all! Someone must’ve dropped it off personally, but I don’t know why they would choose to kill me of all people.”

Suddenly the young boy from across the street leapt past the officers and old man, chasing his little dog into the man’s manicured front yard.

“Get out of my yard! You don’t just go on other people’s property without permission! This is a dangerous situation. There’s a bomb there!”

“A bomb? Where?” The little boy asked, franticly looking in all directions, excited by the thrill of seeing a real bomb.

“What, are you blind? That package there on the front porch! There’s no writing on it, it hasn’t been mailed, and I’m not expecting anything anyway!” The old man insisted once again.

The young boy looked up the steps to see the package wrapped in brown paper, but instead of running out of the yard, he went up to the door and lifted the box in his small hands. The old man screamed, worried for the child’s safety, while the officers rushed forward to try to stop the boy. Holding the package between his small hands, the boy looked up at the adults and giggled at their concerned expressions.

“It’s just cookies! Mama had me bring them by earlier,” the boy grinned.

“Cookies? Why would you bring me cookies?”

“Mama made extra and thought you would like some since you have cookies with your coffee on the porch every morning.”

The old man stepped forward, cautiously taking the box from the young boy and ripping open the paper. Sure enough, there was a red tin box with gold leaves across the top, and inside was stuffed to the brim with homemade cookies. The little boy’s mouth opened longingly at the sight of the cookies and he tiptoed to get just a bit closer. Seeing his reaction, the man offered the tin to the boy for him to take a cookie and then offered it to the officers. The men both shrugged and took a cookie each, their smiles beaming wider with each bite into the sugary treat.

“Officers, I’m sorry for the confusion. I’ve never had anyone make me cookies before. Young man, would you please thank your mother for me?”

“Okay!” The young boy giggled, skipping off to follow his dog down the street. The officers took a second cookie each before returning to their vehicle, and the old man stared at the box of cookies, touched that his neighbor cared enough to think of him. Maybe he wasn't alone after all.