Stranger Than My Fiction


Every day, I wake up, put on my uniform and smile. My gait is swift as I deliver the neighborhoods wishes and wants from my sack. It’s better than being Santa Claus.

And I smile.

My customers await me with open arms eager to make pleasant conversation as they let their dogs back in the house. They offer a hand with the bulky packages. We don’t speak about the weather because it is always sunny, but not hot not cold , never humid.

And pollen?


I smile. Because although the sun is still shining, there is no glare on the drive home.

Home- a beautiful, clean, comfortable place of solace. My kids are in their rooms doing their homework while the aroma of my favorite meal drifts from the kitchen and makes my mouth water.

And I smile.

After dinner, a hot bath awaits me as my clothes are pressed for work the next day. I meditate and pray then get rubbed down in lavender oil before I climb in my bed and hold her. Breathe in her essence. She’s the writer, but she edited my world for me.

And I smiled.

For real.


© michele mitchell, 2014


photo credit:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s