The Special Delivery

It’s a small world, made even more so by travel. I have been reminded of this numerous times over the past three weeks.

Recently, some packages meant to be delivered to our Kanab rental went missing. I stopped by the post office today, and the fellow behind the counter listened to my problem, furrowed his brow, and went to work figuring out the mystery.

Five minutes ago, there was a knock on the front door. There stood the same postal worker and my boxes.

Thank you, small-town America. Your examples of kindness continue to warm me.

The two of us chatted for a few minutes, and I explained we were only here for the month, migrants from New Hampshire looking to escape ski season for the vast skies and open trails of the West.

“New Hampshire? What part?” Richard asked. (That was the fellow’s name.)

“In the White Mountains, near Mount Washington,” I answered.

“My brother lives in Jackson.”

“And so do we!” I added with a sweep of my hand to include Samwise and Emily.

We spoke more animatedly then,…