My daughter got her first full-time job offer today after graduating in global health last May. We talked. She was pumped about it but will still honor tomorrow’s interview.
Then the truly bizarre happened. I got a text this afternoon from the United States Post Office, saying that my package from California had been delivered to her address in Maryland. Could it be her box of missing Christmas presents? I sent a text and left a voicemail. No answer.
I’d already filed a claim and received a check for the things I had receipts for. I’d already replaced some of her gifts with duplicates (I like to give the same gifts to multiple family members). We had both grieved the loss of half of her gifts, lost somewhere across the country. We had lamented the loss of the furry llama I picked up at a house sale and the shiny chrome kitchen utensils, her aunt’s food gifts, and her cousin’s cheese knives. We couldn’t remember all the gifts and only had receipts for a few of them.
When she got back from her spin class, she called. She said it felt eerie to have her box come on the same day that she got a job offer. For someone who has been looking for work for almost a year, she wasn’t used to good things happening, let alone two good things in a small timeframe.
Hurray for the USPS! They finally delivered. I already cashed the check.
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 