When the Thief Comes

It was the incessant whir in front of the house that woke me from my stupor & caused me to set the empty cup of coffee I did not remember drinking down on the table. One of the neighbor’s kids had been raking leaves in our yard, but there was no reason he or she (I was never quite sure anymore) would be using a weed whip. I slid my chair back, slowly got up & went to the door to investigate.

I unlocked the door, only to discover it had already been unlocked & now, lol, had to be unlocked again. I laughed to myself & shook my head as I swung the door open & looked outside.

The kid was no longer in the front yard. I observed with some annoyance the various piles of leaves they had left behind waiting to be picked up & carted off. This was something I liked to do in the fall, only with a mower instead of a rake. I called it “vacuuming the yard.” I would bag the leaves & use them as a winter mulch for the gardens. It protected the rose bushes from the repeated freezing & thawing so common in late fall & early spring & helped to suppress the weeds the following year. But how do you tell a nice kid from the neighborhood you don’t want to accept their kindness?

That, of course, was only part of it. I knew people didn’t think I should be out doing yardwork anymore—or cooking or cleaning for that matter. I understood, at least to a degree, that they were afraid for my health, that I might overdo, get dizzy & fall or have a heart attack. I argued that not allowing me to remain active made it likely my health would decline more rapidly. They suggested I take short walks or go to the coffee table & visit with friends, that I had earned it. I still did what I could get away with, at least until someone caught me & took the broom, dish rag or dust cloth away.

I never argued too strenuously, but I resented it. It made me feel like an invalid—both in the sense of being deemed “no longer able” & “no longer acceptable or valid as a human being”.

Since I was now at the door, I decided to check the mail. There wasn’t any. But there was a small package at the top end of the ramp leading up to the porch. I could see a small clip affixed to the top which looked as though it was meant for a tether. My heart skipped a beat. This had to be my first ever delivery from the newly established drone service in our area & I was elated!

Only I hadn’t ordered anything & neither could I think of anyone who would be sending me something so soon after Thanksgiving. I rushed to fetch the package, almost tripping myself over one of the empty boxes I had left there. (I liked to keep them handy. You never know when you’re going to need an empty box!)

The package had no markings on it. That hardly came as a surprise given that I had read such drone deliveries often came anonymously. But neither did it give any indication for whom it was intended. I puzzled over this as I carried it inside. It had to be meant for me, didn’t it? Who else could it be?

I sat at the kitchen table studying it. It was fairly light, no more than a couple of pounds. I hated to open it. The box was pristine & so neatly sealed with packing tape. To me it was a thing of beauty. But after a few minutes my curiosity got the best of me.

I ran my fingernail across one of the seams along the side of the top flaps several times until it finally cut through. (I wasn’t supposed to use knives, either. That was okay. I kept my nails nice & sharp just for occasions such as this.) I repeated this process along the other side & then across the top between the flaps itself. I could hardly bear my own sense of anticipation, wanting so desperately to see inside. But I needed to take special care with the box. I had not yet decided whether I would set it aside with the others to use later or save it as a prized trophy & remembrance of my first such delivery.

I held my breath as I lifted the flaps & peered inside. There I found another package, nearly as large as the first, all wrapped in lovely Christmas paper, tied with gold ribbon & topped with a delicate bow. There were no packing peanuts or bubble wrap, which I thought was kind of foolish. What if the contents had been dropped & become damaged?

I lifted the present from the box with extreme care & set it on the table in front of me. Should I open it? Whoever had wrapped the gift had done an even better job than I could do, & I considered myself a perfectionist when it came to wrapping gifts. This person was an artist. It would almost have seemed better to set it up on display where everyone could enjoy it. But I didn’t have my tree up yet, nor did I seem to have any other place that would do it justice.

Who am I kidding? I knew from the moment I saw it I was going to open it. What if it was an aerial drone for me? Wouldn’t that be cool? A gift of a drone delivered by drone! It would almost be too deliciously perfect!

That having been said, I would have to open it carefully—even more carefully than I had with the outer box. With Christmas gifts so meticulously coiffed it was important to peel the tape back so that none of the paper came with it. Of course, it goes without saying, tearing the paper itself was a faux pau so serious there could be no coming back from it. Thankfully, my brothers had trained me well growing up, not only finding where the packages were hidden & discovering their contents, but also rewrapping them such that our parents would never be the wiser. As my father-in-law used to say, “This would be no hill for a stepper!”

Once I had freed the paper from its cellophane bonds & spread it out neatly on the table for future use, I found myself facing another simple cardboard box, much like the one in which it had arrived. Again, there were no clues as to its contents. Finding no other recourse, I opened it as I had the first.

There was no drone inside.

There was just a teddy bear. No, not even a teddy bear. It was a koala bear.

Don’t get me wrong. It was a perfectly nice koala bear, furry & cuddly & soft. I’m sure any youngster would love to snuggle up with it as they drifted off to sleep. But why would anyone send such a gift to me at my age? I’m guessing even the kid raking leaves outside would consider themselves too old for such a thing (unless perhaps he really was a she).

I sat there at the table, simply staring at the doggone thing, for the longest time.

Then I heard someone open the front door.

A woman I couldn’t quite place called to the kid outside as she entered, “You’re doing a great job, Kim! Why don’t you take a break & come inside to warm up a bit. I’ll fix you some hot chocolate.”

As she turned toward me, I could see her face fall. She took in the carnage of Christmas wrap & cardboard strewn across the table & floor ever so slowly before closing her eyes & shaking her head. “I knew I should have taken care of that before I ran my errands.”

She came around the table & kissed me softly on the top of my head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, sweetheart. You were just sleeping so soundly & I thought surely I could get a few things taken care of before helping you get ready for the day.”

She took the unused coffee cup I had next to me & set it on the counter, then turned off the coffee maker & set the hot carafe in the sink, its only contents the charred remains of some ancient brew.

“I’ll clean that up & make you some fresh joe once the pot has cooled down.”

She returned to the table & knelt down beside me. I was still holding the koala, staring intently, not sure what to do.

“Do you remember helping me shop for this yesterday?” Her right hand rested upon my leg as she stroked the koala’s fur gently with her left. “We wanted to get something for our granddaughter for Christmas. You picked it out yourself. We looked at a lot of things, but you were determined it had to be this. I think it’s perfect & I know she’s going to love it, not just because she loves stuffed animals but because picked it out. She loves you so much. I was going to send it off in the mail later today, but maybe I’ll just wait until tomorrow. It will have plenty of time to get there.”

I still couldn’t quite place her. I couldn’t remember her name or who she was. But as she held me tenderly in her arms, I was okay with that. I was okay with her.

I remember someone once telling me to pay attention, to stay alert. “The day will come when two of you will be walking in a field & one will be taken while the other gets left behind. Two of you will be lying in bed &, just like that, one will be gone while the other remains. We never know when the thief will come. We never know how much time we have with one another. So pay attention & make the most of the time we do have.”

There’s so much I don’t remember. I can’t think of her name or who she is, but I can tell that she pays attention & treasures every moment she has with me. And though I cannot put words to it, I know that I treasure her, too.

The door opens & Kim greets me with a big smile, takes my hand & gives me a warm hug. He/she sits down at the table as the woman heats up some water in the microwave for the hot chocolate. Kim patiently tries to find questions for which I might still be able to offer a meaningful response.

And I know that he/she pays attention, too.