The Mail.

Most of us don't care too much about getting mail.  I mean some of us care more than others, but most mail carriers are not worried about their customers.  Imagine my little peach.  She arrives everyday at a different time.  And I know the time for each day.  I usually do a little wave from the front porch as she arrives.  She looks confused or maybe just sad that I love receiving mail this much and drives to my neighbors.  That is when I burst into a sprint to the mail.  I grab it, waving again, and run inside.  What I am looking for is usually not there, because in my impatience, adoption documents take time...

So today my sisters were over.  I suddenly got fidgety.  "What's up with you?"  Mackenzie asks.  "Ummm, nothing, just the mail came and I don't want to check it right not, but I want to check it, but I don't want to get into a sulky mood, so I'll check it later."

"Okay...then I'll go get the mail." Mackenzie says... with a why are you not normal tone.

That is when I sprint out.  Anyway the mail carrier may have called paramedics to see if I was breathing, because I did not go out right away.

And I grabbed my mail.  And screamed.  Aisha and Mackenzie ran to the door, and said, you did not get it right?  Oh yes.I.did.

I opened my mail and ran screaming around the house.  Up the driveway around the sidewalk into the basement.   Jumped on the couch and hugged.everyone.  One.Step.Closer.