uncomplicated.
It had taken away the issue of what to have for breakfast,
a problem I faced every morning as I rushed around trying
to get ready and spent precious minutes staring without
enthusiasm into my refrigerator. I didn't have to think about
what to have, or waste time concerning myself. Eat
oatmeal for breakfast, the list had said, and I did.
I'd eaten oatmeal every day as a kid. Sometimes for
dinner, too. My mom bought it in bulk from an Amish
market. Great huge tubs of big, roled oats. Not the fancy
kind with Benjamin Franklin or whoever he was on the
kind with Benjamin Franklin or whoever he was on the
front. The kind you had to slow cook. Funny how I hadn't
thought about how easy, filing and tasty oatmeal could
realy be until I got that note.
Even though the mail almost always was delivered or in the
process of being delivered before I had to leave for work,
many times I didn't care to brave the crowd flocking
around the mailboxes and just waited to pick it up after
work. Until recently, I'd never had anything exciting to
pick up.
This morning, though, I muscled my way through the
crowd and puled my mail from the box. My heart
pounded as I flipped through the junk and bils. I had a
postcard from my dentist reminding me I was due for an
exam.
And a new note.
Today, you wil be strong and know you are beautiful.
Wow.
I closed the card, returned it to the envelope, and slid it
through the slot of mailbox 114. I didn't stop to hide what
I was doing, not caring if anyone saw me do it, though at
I was doing, not caring if anyone saw me do it, though at
that moment the flock of tenants had flown away and I
was the only one there. I peered through the glass window
at the card in its cradle of other mail and wondered how
such a simple command could have completely stolen
away my breath.
Paul traveled often, so it wasn't unusual for me to go
several days or a week without seeing him. On the days he
was in the office, though, he never failed to come out to
greet me when he heard me arrive, or if I'd managed to get
to my desk ahead of him, he always stopped to say good-
morning. But not today. I heard him muttering into the
phone through his closed door, but he didn't come out. He
had, however, left something for me on the desk.
A list.
It didn't tel me to be strong or know I was beautiful, but I
couldn't stop thinking about that as I read the chores and
tasks he'd left for me. He hadn't given me anything out of
