Wearing only my t-shirt and house shorts, I walked to the mailbox for the day’s mail. Quickly thumbing through it, they were all bills, With a few pieces of junk and flyers.
As I opened my credit card statement, I noticed it was now almost past due. I decided to place a call to them, Letting them know I just received the bill.
I told them I’ll mail out payment today, So my balance won’t be credited late. Before picking up the corded wall phone, I fumbled for the telephone number.
I heard the dial tone, then continued, Pressing down each of the numbered buttons. Between silences, a low grumble played, Until picked up by a robotic voice.
The voice greeted me, gave me some options, I pressed the number for billing options. There was a short wait for a live agent, Her crystal clear voice confirmed my info.
I proceeded to state my question or two, She listened attentively while I talked. She asked if she could put me on a hold, With my acknowledgment, there was silence.
Within a few minutes her voice returned, Answering my questions with a smile. She confirmed my payment will post timely, So long as its post marked with today’s date.
I thanked her for her time and went on my day. Put the corded phone back on its cradle. Then headed to the den for my checkbook, I wrote out a check for the amount due.
I scribbled in all the payment details, Into the mess of a check register. I gently detached the payment coupon, From the rest of my credit card statement.
I stuffed both payment coupon and the check, In the wrinkled envelope tucked within. Before I sealed the envelope, I checked Then double checked contents, all good to go.
Found a stamp and a return address label, And now it was ready to be mailed out. I mailed it at the nearest post office, Making sure its postmark shows today’s date.
In the naive eyes of today’s young folks, It only takes a few cell phone keystrokes. All done before the morning coffee cools, They never knew anything different.
Yet, there was comfort in those slower steps, A quiet rhythm woven through the day. The stamps, the glue and the race to beat the clock, Life moved at the pace of paper and ink.
But time has a habit of moving on, Breaking old routines and changing habits. We traded patience for convenience, Losing small rituals we didn’t know we’d miss.
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