Like many people this time of year, we have a lot of packages arriving. I have seen UPS packages delivered to our door in U-Haul trucks, and charmingly, by bicycle. Yesterday, an unmarked truck pulled up outside our apartment, and I saw a man approach our door with a package.
As I have done with other deliveries, I went to the door to get the package. We live on a busy street, and it was raining. No need to let a cardboard box with gifts inside sit on the stoop in the wet.
Except this time, I had been running around like a nut, because I had a baby sitter, and I was about to leave the house. So I was in a mad dash to get all my usual preparations and tasks done so I could escape.
As the delivery guy was about to knock, I threw open the door and took the package from his hands. He chuckled.
“I don’t have to ask what you’ve been doing,” he said.
I didn’t understand.
“I’ve seen those before,” he said.
I looked down at my hand. I had two bottles of pumped milk in my hand, still attached to the wet flanges that had just been sucking milk out of my boobs.
“Uh, yeah. Um,” is what I stammered, having nothing better to say.
The delivery guy walked away smiling.
I guess we shared a moment.