Driving the mail Jeep around in the rain, loaded to the top/gills with packages, loaded so tall and so full that there was barely enough room left for me to wedge myself behind the wheel and drive away from the Post Office to begin the day, loaded for bear….knocked out and loaded….loaded…..blind to traffic and the “easy life”….a bigger wheeled box carrying a bunch of smaller boxes…a vehicle….

Driving the Jeep….driving again….another day of pre-Christmas cheer and packages…rush….and…

this song by Levon’s daughter, Amy, came on the radio….


“didn’t it rain” Amy Helm


It’s so good when a song provides the momentarily perfect soundtrack backdrop to a life on the road….endless loop…endless.

“Endless”? What kind of weird hubris is that? Hubris is the tragic flaw, from what I remember.  Tragic.

I should be so lucky to be alive and employed….endlessly….useful and needed…providing some kind of service that changes things….even if it’s only to fill up a space with a box full of some new necessity.

Nobody feels useful forever, I suppose.

It rained like the world was ending….and then the sun came out and the day leveled out and the packages left the Jeep like someone had pulled a plug in a bathtub and the drain was partially clogged with a season’s worth of new baldness….slowly and surely going away….packageless and overjoyed to be done with another day’s accumulated duties….closer to Christmas.

Amy Helm….singing a song about rain.

What wasn’t great about getting through this day?

Sometimes what makes a day good is knowing that you’re done with the bad part.

I’ll be glad to get to go to sleep.

Sleep, Sparrow…let Daddy and Mommy sleep tonight.

That would be a good part of our day, too.



About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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