I was just about to step into the shower when I heard the doorbell ring. I thought about ignoring it since I was already late getting ready for my luncheon date with my old friend Maryanne. Whoever was at the door was persistent and keeps pushing the doorbell over and over again.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I say to no one in particular.

I grab my ancient chenille robe. It’s tattered and torn and stained in places. But it used to belong to my mother. I consider it a family heirloom. And I throw it on, tying it tightly around my waist. I push my feet roughly into my slippers, which are also tattered and stained.

I take the steps two at a time. My left slipper comes off my foot and goes careening down the remaining steps. I almost go careening after them. But catch myself at the last minute when I manage to grab the rickety railing.

I can see through the four small windows in the door that the delivery guy is turning and about to leave. I jump down onto the floor at the bottom of the steps and all but pull the door off its hinges in an effort to open the door before he drives away.

The delivery guy has just turned his back on the door and is quick-stepping back to his delivery truck. I start screaming at the top of my lungs and vigorously waving my arms back and forth.

“Hey buddy, wait, wait, I’m here. I was in the bathroom upstairs.” When he turns around, he looks at me as if I’m a mirage or something. As if he can’t believe his eyes. I look down to see what he’s staring at, and I realize that my robe has come untied and is flapping in the wind. Unfortunately, last night it was unbearably hot in my bedroom, and I slept in the nude.

And that is when I notice my nosy neighbor, Cynthia, is walking her dog, Alfred, past my house. “Shit. Sorry, Cynthia. Sorry, sorry.” And I pull my robe together and retie the belt.

Cynthia’s face is bright red, and she doesn’t say a word. But she keeps staring at me like I’m from another planet. Then she starts shaking her head vigorously from right to left. Alfred barks at me in a somewhat friendlier tone, and off they go for their morning constitutional.

By then, the delivery guy has made his way back to my doorstep. And he wears an expression on his face that can only be described as wolfish. All his teeth are showing, and his eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head. He leans towards me, and I lean back. “Take it, easy lady, I just need you to sign this clipboard, and I’ll be on my way.”

I grab the clipboard and the pen that’s hanging off of it and scribble my signature. And then I stick out my hand, and he hands me a package that’s about the size of a napkin. “Thank you,” I say as I’m about to turn around and close the door.

He waits for a moment. I guess he thinks he might get a tip. But he isn’t going to get one from me today. I turn around and walk as nonchalantly as I can muster up. As if I didn’t just flash everyone that happened to be on the street this morning. I take my mother’s advice for once. She often said, “when you make a fool out of yourself, just keep moving forward and don’t look back.” And that is exactly what I did, let it go and walk through my front door like it was any other day. And I forget about it.

When I get into my house, I firmly close the door and put the chain across it. And walk through the living room into my tiny kitchen. I put the small package on the kitchen counter and turned on the coffee pot. I open the refrigerator door and gaze inside.

There isn’t much, I haven’t gone food shopping in two weeks and the cupboard is almost bare. I find a slightly stale piece of rye bread and stick it in the toaster and find I still had a dab of peanut butter in my giant economy size of Chunky Peanut Butter. I practically live on peanut butter. I like it with a sliced banana, but I don’t have any left.

I pour the coffee into my favorite mug. It used to belong to my Aunt Merry, which is short for Marilyn. It’s huge, yellow and round with a smiling face. In fact, it was called the Smiley Face Mug. She gave it to me when I moved to the city. It’s from the 1970s. And it is one of the few things I treasure in life. Because it reminds me of all the time I spent every summer with her when I was a kid. She lived within walking distance of the beach. And she grew all her own vegetables in her little garden.  We would take long walks across the beach and collect shells and stones. I still have some of the shells somewhere in a box in the back of my closet. Most of my childhood memories that I cherish are from the time I spent with my Aunt Merry.  I should have visited her more often.

My mom called me a couple of weeks ago and told me that my Aunt Merry quietly passed away in her sleep. That’s so like her, never wanted to cause anyone any trouble or worry. I should have gone to her funeral, but I didn’t because I didn’t have the money for a round-trip bus ticket home. And my mother drinks up all her money. She didn’t even let me know until the day before the funeral.

I finish the last of my coffee and pick up the small package, and I realize the return address is my mom’s. “Wow,” I say out loud. My mother never sends me anything. Occasionally she calls me and asks for money. And when I have any, I send it to her. She’s still my mother, after all. And she did raise me all alone. And I guess she did the best she could. I should probably visit my mother more too. She’s no longer young. And I don’t know how much time she has left.

I make up my mind that I’m definitely going to go visit my mother sometime soon. I start tearing the brown paper off the small package, and then I shake it. Something is rattling inside. When I open the box, I see something that looks like gold. I pull it out, and inside I see a pocket watch on a long, gold chain. I pick it up and look at it closely. It has flowers engraved on the back and my Aunt Merry’s initials, and the year 1969. The year she graduated from high school. I remember seeing it in her jewelry box in her house down at the beach. She used to say, “someday, this pocket watch will be yours. And it will remind you of all the good times we had together here at the beach.”

I feel a tear run down my cheek, and more follow. I start crying and as I realize all the time that I could have spent with my Aunt Merry and I didn’t. I always made excuses not to go. I don’t know why. I put the pocket watch around my neck and go over to the mirror next to the front door and look at myself. As I stand there with the tears running down my face, I see my Aunt’s smiling face looking back at me.

As I’m standing there looking at myself, the phone rings. I slowly walk over to the phone and pick it up. “Hello, Kathleen, it’s mom.”

“Yes, Mom, I recognize your phone number. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, why did you hear something?”

“No, Mom, I didn’t hear anything, you don’t call me often, and when you do, it’s usually bad news.”

“Oh, Kathleen, you have always been so overly dramatic. I just called to see if you got the package I sent you?”

“Yes, Mom, it was just delivered. I always loved that watch. Aunt Merry always promised me she would leave it to me when she passed. I’ll cherish it.”

“Yes, she really did love you, Kathleen. I wished you had come and visited her more often. You were her favorite niece.”

“You’re right, Mom. I should have visited her more. In fact, I was just thinking that I haven’t seen you in quite a while. And I have a few vacation days left that I have to use up by the end of the year. So, how about if I come to see you at the end of next week.”

“Really, Kathleen? I would just love that.”

“Ok, Mom, I have a lunch date with one of my friends, and I have to get a shower and get dressed and drive across town. I’ll call you next week and let you know the details. I love you, Mom.”

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