Mr. Reynolds viewed the delivery with confusion the first time after she passed. The white, Styrofoam was strangely unfamiliar to him. His brow furrowed, and his eyebrows cocked as he tried to understand and comprehend. It was something sharp and untouchable. I know this because Mr. Reynolds did not even attempt to grasp it, did not even attempt to receive it or clutch it. I’ve heard that death does this to the world in which we live. The routine becomes alien. The routine delivery nailed spikes into wooden boxes…she’s gone now. He beckoned that I take the delivery into his house and set it down for him. I walked in to the dim living room that smelled like thick carpet and gently laid the delivery onto the table. I felt the need to go, to get out, and so I did. I said goodbye, and Mr. Reynolds gently smiled. As I closed the heavy door, I watched him look down at that strange familiarity laying on his coffee table. Mr. Reynolds seemed as if to be learning how to live again. And it was rather uncomfortable to watch. It was there in which it suddenly occurred to me that life is the turbulent stormy sky above the serene and silent ocean.
Mr. Reynolds viewed the delivery with less confusion the second time after she passed. This time in light blue, he slowly reached for the delivery. There was hesitancy. It was always a viable option to ask me to bring it and set it on the table. But after a moment, he reached for it. Mr. Reynolds’ poor vision caused him to lay his shaken and sandy hands far from the Styrofoam delivery. I helped him find it. He smiled and shut the door. He would put it on the table this time.
Mr. Reynolds wore his Yankee cap the third time after she passed. There was a smile in Mr. Reynolds’ eyes and less in his mouth. He did not hesitate to place his hands out far from the delivery. Once again, I helped him find it. He began to walk back into his house, and I shut the heavy door for him. As I walked back to my car, it suddenly occurred to me that Mr. Reynolds affected me this time. I suddenly caught a strange sense about something. I smiled and drove out of the driveway. I thanked God that, even in the last chapter of our lives, he is still recreating and growing new in us.