Phyllis

When Phyllis parted the gauzy curtains covering the front window and raised the yellowed pull blind, she couldn’t see through the panes for the frost. Quickly she rubbed circles on the glaze with arthritic fists and cleared a small clean spot, to which she pressed her eye and peered out intently. Not many cars passed by even on a clear day, but the constant snow since last afternoon had discouraged any traffic. Even the snowplow hadn’t yet reached her road.
But Phyllis was sure the postman would try the route. He had never failed before, no matter the elements. And this morning he had to come. He would come. She needed for him to come. He was coming now. These were Phyllis’ thoughts which repeated through her anxious mind like a chant as she scanned the lifeless fields Miracles did happen. They happened when they really needed to happen, as now.
For a long while she watched, and whenever the small clear spot frosted over, she rubbed it clear again. Though it was nearly ten the the morning, it was as dark as late afternoon.
Still she watched. Then it seemed something changed. Some glow in the east reflected dimly, pulsing from snow to sky, sky to snow. She was sure it was the mail truck, the lights of her lifeline. A plow would have shone more steadily, but the little postal jeep always lurched and started in the rutted, stony road, casting its lights about.
Yes, the jeep was coming. She was sure of it. She had to hurry.
Phyllis donned her worn heavy woolen coat and threw her big yellow knit scarf over her head, tossing it over her neck and shoulders as she forced open the front door. She plucked the letter from her purse and held it tightly as she picked her way across the slick stoop. Her gloves should have been in her coat pocket, but she couldn’t locate them. No matter, she thought dismissively. And she hadn’t taken precious moments to put on boots over her thin white socks, either.. All she had for protection were the cotton socks and her black everyday shoes, and the stoop ice was slick. Why hadn’t she salted it?
“Don’t fall, oh God, don’t fall now!” she muttered. But she could not afford to move with caution. Too much was at stake. Twice she started to slip on the icy steps and lurched to the side and her arms flew out suddenly, but somehow she managed to keep herself aright. She reached the ground beyond the steps and plunged stubbornly into deep drifts, marching across the front lane as fast as she could force her aged legs to move. Within moments her bare legs felt like ice, but she ignored them.
To the east the low glow of yellow headlights pierced the blue-gray, swirling snowfall, and soon the postman’s jeep rolled down the drifting road with a throaty purr toward her lane.
“I knew it!” Phyllis exulted. I knew it was him.”
She waved frantically as the postman reached her box, cracked open the door and inserted some mail, then quickly slammed the door shut and prepared to leave. Phyllis’s exultation suddenly turned to panic.
“No, please! Wait!” she cried to no avail against the elements, still too far away to attract attention.
The engine began to accelerate. The jeep’s wheels spun for a moment, then caught hold and began to move the cube-like vehicle forward.
“No!” Phyllis screamed. “You must wait!”
The jeep had gone perhaps ten feet when it suddenly jerked to a stop, its brakes lighting brightly. Then it began to back up. Its small horn honked an acknowledgement of the awkward figure in the snow in an agreement to wait.
Phyllis’ heart leaped with new hope, and she struggled with young wind to close the remaining distance. Gulping the frigid air in great gasps, her lungs ached. Though she had journeyed only thirty or forty yards, her feet were wet and freezing. Phyllis gave them no thought at all. The letter would be mailed.
As Phyllis reached the lane’s end, the squarish door again cracked open.
“Thanks so much for waiting.,” she gasped, extending the letter urgently, “It’s very important to me..”
“No problem, ma’am,” the carrier smiled. “I’ll see this goes out by noon. But you watch your step getting back, though.” The door thudded shut. The little engine pressed on once more, spinning the snow tires into new channels against the trackless expanse. The road lay somewhere beneath. Occasional mailboxes poked just above the drifts, along with occasional telephone poles and fenceposts, to indicate where the lanes peeled off to other distant homesteads on the lonely stretch.
Phyllis squinted against the stinging wind and watched the jeep’s big round taillights fade into the swirling sheets like frightened eyes, as if she were willing the missive on its way by sheer desperate force, urging its struggle through the mounting drifts which rose to the west. Despite the biting wind that stung at her with tiny, sharp needles, she dared not turn around till she could no longer hear the motor’s soft shuffing over the horizon.
When at last she was certain no sound save the whining wind reached her ears, she steadied herself against the mailbox, turned, and tried to follow her former tracks in the deep blanket back toward the house., freezing and exhausted but relieved.
“Thank you, God,” she prayed. “Oh, thank you.”