Our mailing address isn’t in Rohrsburg; it’s in Orangeville PA. The post office in Orangeville is tiny and never crowded.
The “postmistress” for a long time was Jenna, somebody I grew to like a lot. Whenever I went there she was nice and friendly and had this sort of aura for which I couldn’t find a name. It was something good; it felt warm.
I figured out what it was about Jenna that I liked. Whenever I had a complicated post office errand to do, like sending a heavy envelope to a friend, and certain forms had to be filled in she’d say: Now, just do as I say. Put the name of the person you’re mailing to on that line; fill in their address. OK? Now. put your signature there. OK? And she would go on like that in a soothing way. Not that mailing something is that big of a deal. However, once I asked her if she had kids. Yes, she did have several children.
“You sound like a mother, a mother who is good to her children, and who helps them when they don’t know how to do something.”
Jenna liked that. She told me that nobody ever told her she sounded like a good mother, and she was very happy.
lgmwriting 