Everyday, I stand here unable to move. At the end of this driveway, solely watching as cars drive by. I am only a mailbox.

I have been recently painted because parts of me were fading. The white wooden post that holds me up is so strong that even after the windiest days and harshest winter nights, we still stand, together we are one. We only have each other, as we do not have any other mailboxes near us. However, the family that owns me wants to make sure I do not show any parts of aging. The numbers that are stuck to my side have been replaced with more visible ones. As the white paint starts to chip away starting from the bottom of the post, I can see disgusted faces when my owners see the chipped paint as it disrupts the aesthetic of the house. Perhaps it was just time for a new coat of paint. Not only because of the years that have passed by since the wooden post that holds me has been painted, but all those dogs that walk by my post and I, that decide we are the best peeing spot. Every time a dog comes up to us, I know what is about to happen. I look down with disgust at the dog. We are not supposed to be their perfect peeing spot. I scream “Go away! We are not your peeing spot! Find somewhere else!”, but the dog does not care and does whatever he wants. I feel bad for my post as we experience life together, but my wooden post gets the worst of it. 

I think of the individuals who visit me in two different categories, those who use me to store packages and letters and those who take everything I hold away from me. Most mornings, I am visited by this lovely woman who opens me up and gives me letters to hold. Then, she closes me up and off she goes until the next morning. Occasionally, I am visited by strangers who open me up and stuff me with packages. Then in the evenings, one of the family members walks up to me and opens me up to check if I hold any packages or letters. When I do, they take everything from me and leave me bare inside. So, I have completed my job. Sometimes I am tasked to send out a letter. Usually, it is my owner that gives me the letter to send out, he will raise my red flag. This will let the wonderful woman in the morning know that I have something for her. She will open me and take the letter with her. She will put down my flag, as I no longer hold anything that needs to be shipped. Then the woman checks to see if she has anything for me to give to my owners. And just like that she closes me up.

There is no other like me. I can see, hear, and talk. I am more than an ordinary mailbox.