Good morning all I hope your morning is going well. I had to get up extra early to get to the airport this morning so I feel like I am running late even though I am actually on time. It is the thing about routine. I usually start my day with these prompts while the coffee is brewing. Now I have driven across town and hit the Starbucks before circling back to the computer. So everything feels a little disjointed. Still it is time for the prompt so timers at the ready and off we go!
This one I will have to think about…
Tuesday, January 2nd: He buttoned up his coat.
He buttoned up his coat. The wind was bitterly cold today and carried more than a hint of ice. He didn’t over all mind the cold. It was the damp that this particular cold carried that he didn’t like. It made his bones ache and he could feel every bit of damage done to them over the years. In general, he didn’t like to be reminded of those times. They were over and done with.
He preferred to let them go. It was just the damp cold that brought them back.
He walked down to the mailbox trying to focus on his steps more than his past. The ground was slick with ice. They had rain, and then a hard frost followed by snow. While the snow was shoveled, the cold wind polished the ice beneath to a high gloss and made it as hard as stone. The newer snow added the day before covered patches of this polished ice and made each step treacherous. It was thick enough that it didn’t even crackle under his boots. It simply groaned softly at the abuse of his weight.
The sound brought the old memories of pain closer and he clamped his teeth shut as though he could stop them.
He reached the mail box. As he did not want to make the trip down the drive in such conditions, it was packed full. Most of it was stuff he would send into the recycling bin as soon as he returned to the house. However the mail carrier didn’t just place items in the box. They were stuffed in. Each days additions pushing the day before to the back and compressing it into a tighter bundle. He would have to take it all into the house to sort through to figure out if anything was actually worth saving.
‘My fault for leaving it so long,’ he told himself as he extracted the mass. He tried blaming the mail carrier or the post office for whatever training they provided that lead to this situation, but in the end he knew what they would do and he hadn’t gotten the mail before it could happen.
‘Means I’m at least culpable,’ he told himself.
He snorted and with the compressed mail bundle in his arms he turned and made his way back up to the house. In general he preferred when he could lay the blame for such things solely on others. The state of his mail was often a source of complaint. He had not received a single package or letter in the last eight months that didn’t have at least one dented corner or torn section.
‘I’m sure they’ll do something soon I can completely blame them for,’ John decided. He liked the release of a good rant. He knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere and he knew that no one even heard his rants. But he felt it was good to rant every now and again. He grew up with too many people who bottled everything up. He was certain that it was what killed them in the end. The official verdict may have been high blood pressure or some sort of disease. But John was sure it was keeping everything locked inside that did it to them.
It caused their internal pressure to go up and instead of pressure creating diamonds, it cause ulcers and high blood pressure. He felt a good rant alleviated the pressure so that it didn’t’ do something awful inside his body. He only enjoyed the rant when he knew he wasn’t partially to blame. Leaving the mail for so long meant that he wouldn’t enjoy it.
He reached the house without taking a spill and the thought of the mail kept his mind off his own aching bones.
Ten til Midnight 