Writing Exercise 091

Of curse, this week I also have a writing exercise for you. This time I got a very interesting prompt.
Let's see what I did with it, shall we?

2017/09/10 – The Post Offices all over the world are going to close, but they give you one last chance to write your very last snail mail ever.

“Did you know the Post Offices are going to close? It's all over the news,” my mother told exasperated when she visited me this Monday morning, “Can you believe that!”

I just shrugged as I always felt awkward writing mails. Usually they were addressed to public authorities or insurance companies and thus no pleasant mails at all. I wouldn't miss them. And when I found my mailbox empty I'd often muttered: “No mail at all is good mail.”

“But they give each person one last chance to send a very last mail. The authorities have handed over a list of their citizens so they can check,” my mother continued, reached into her bag and showed me an envelope. “I'm headed there now. Want to come along?” she asked excitedly.

Reluctantly I agreed, slipped on my shoes, grabbed my bag and keys and followed her to the only supermarket in the village, where the Post Office was crammed between the shelf with wine and the bakers.

When we reached the supermarket, the place was overrun with people – young and old. The poor cashiers didn't know what to do as they were so few and not used to having a whole village of customers in their shop at the same time.

“Oh, god,” I moaned, “this is madness.”

Once so friendly neighbours fought viciously over the last stamps and envelopes, the queue extended over the whole building and frayed at times as people got impatient and frantic and were eager to send their last mail or postcard or parcel. People were shouting and shoving but nothing made the process go faster as there was only one Post Office register.

“Are you really going to stand here in line waiting all day?” I asked my mother and she huffed: “I've run out of stamps. Didn't think it would be that full.” So we queued for a while. I looked around the shelves and thought about what to make for dinner. Until my mother became really impatient.

“You know what? Let's come back tomorrow. They won't be closing for another week. There sure is enough time to get that mail sent,” she decided.

“Who are you writing to anyway?” I was curious, but she only smiled sagely.

“To a very important person in my life, of course,” she answered.

So we decided to go home and meet up again tomorrow. But the situation was the same on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and we had neither the patience nor the mood to stand in line all day with people who behaved like madmen.

That was when three letters and a postcard arrived in my mailbox. Curiously I opened them to find my best friend and some people I'd lost contact with had decided to write their very last letter to me. As I didn't expect any mail I was pretty overwhelmed while I read each letter and postcard. Their words moved me almost to tears and the desire to write back to each of them filled me. I would type each of them an email, I promised to myself. But I also decided I would write that last letter and have it sent!

But it had to be special. So I searched my office for some sheets of laid paper and took my calligraphy pen and got to work. As I wrote the longest and most meaningful letter in my whole life I wanted to convey a lot of things. Of course I could tell this person any day per phone or email or text or directly. But dedicating my final letter to this person made everything so profound and serious. I even found my last two stamps, so again I met up with my mother on Friday to share them with her. The post box was overstuffed and I didn't want to rumple my letter.

“You know what? Here. I don't need that Post Office to deliver anything to you,” I exclaimed and handed the letter over. She was speechless and smiled happily then hugged me.

“You're right,” she agreed. “We'll never get that letter delivered in time with so many people overcrowding the place. And the post box is a mess. Here.” She gave me her letter, and it indeed was addressed to me.

“So I am that important person?” I ask surprised.

“Of course, silly,” she laughed and hugged me again.