Special Delivery

Saturday morning. 9:15 am. Phone rings.

30 minutes later, I'm having breakfast with a friend from high school (in sweats and sneakers!! and if you really know me, you KNOW this is MAJOR..hahahaha). Afterwards, I decided to stroll the streets of Harlem. I talk about my love of my neighborhood often but with the hustle and bustle of life, I realize I walk the same streets, travel the same way daily. Not only is that not safe (I see you, stalkers) but I'm missing out on the beauty of my hood.

I wandered into stores that I always make a mental note for. I purchased a great cup of peppermint tea from a small bakery. I wandered into a small dress boutique, picked out a dress to order (saving my pennies to afford said dress....plantation layoff is trying to kill my summer wardrobe), and struck up a very inspiring conversation with the owner. As I walked up and down the tree lined streets, I wondered if I was really ready to leave it all behind. Like really ready.

When I arrived home, with bags of all that was purchased on my walk home, I made a beeline for the mailboxes. My mission to stalk the mailman had not be lost. I was FOCUSED, MAN. I peer down into my mailbox and on top of my InStyle magazine, there it was. A key. I started doing the happy dance right there in the mailroom. My neighbor asked me if I was okay. Let me explain. In my mailroom we have lockers. And if you have a package that's too big for the box (that's what he said), the mailman will put the package in a locker and place the key in your box (he said that too).

I dragged all of my bags over to the lockers and looked for the magic locker that corresponded to the number on my key. Voila! There inside this locker laid a cardboard box with a brightly hued label addressed to me. WOOOOOHOOOOOO!!!! Seriously, I was a kid on Christmas. Right there in my lobby. Giggles and glee galore. There is a picture hanging in my apartment of me on Christmas morning holding a blue and white record player. I had to be about 6 years old in the picture. Even years later, the photo barely contains my excitement. If I'd taken a picture on Saturday, I'm pretty sure I'd look like that picture. Well without The Smurf pajamas then and dyed hair now.

I calmed down a bit. Well....enough to drop everything right by my front door. Well....everything except the brown cardboard box tucked securely under my left arm. We had some business to take care of.

I settled into my bedroom (don't know why I felt compelled to open package in my boudoir...but that's where I dashed to when I got home). I called Baskin Robbins. I wanted to be on the phone with him when I unraveled this mystery. UGH!!! He didn't answer, therefore forcing me to begin to open the gift bestowed upon me (and my mailbox). After the battle of epic proportions between myself and the clear packing tape that was stood between myself and the answer to my stalkerific behavior, the box was finally opened. I screamed in sheer delight.

Among some other things, this man sent me a Bell Biv Devoe CD and a notebook. Lemme explain why this had me kicking up my heels and screaming with glee on my queen size bed (without the man even being in the room). Back in March, during March Madness: The Birthday Edition (what I dubbed my 31 days of bday celebrations), I saw Bell Biv Devoe in concert. If there is anything to know about me, I am a New Edition fan. A serious fan. I still have New Edition albums in mint condition. ALBUMS SON!!! I still have the tour book from the NE Heartbreak tour. I skipped school in HS to stand on line to get an autograph from Ralph Tresvant at a record store (safely secured in a photo album to this day). I told a best friend 7 years ago if she went in to labor during a New Edition concert, our friendship was over. I've known her since I was 6 (actually we used to plan our weddings to NE members together at sleepovers). My love for New Edition and most of its derivatives (Johnny, eh not so much) is strong and deep. So my friends got together and treated me to one of the best Sunday nights - a BBD show. And I loved EVERY. SINGLE. NANOSECOND.

Of course after the show, I spoke to Baskin Robbins and damn near gave a play by play of the show, complete with a medley style vocal rendition of their hits. As usual, we laughed at ourselves and each other. And then the conversation moved on to other points of interest.

The notebook in hindsight is kind of a no brainer. I recently read to him something I wrote. He quoted something from it later on in the conversation and I blushed. I don't think before I was brave enough to read to him that he took my writing aspirations as more than a hobby, a fleeting pastime.

Some of you may read about the contents of this box and think, "That's it?" But he listens. He gets me. That's what I saw in that box.. He didn't just walk into a store and plop his credit card down on the counter for some meaningless unimaginative crappy gift like some prepackaged gift basket. He thought about me. Like really thought about something that would make me smile. This may not seem earth shattering to some, but to paraphrase MJ, he rocked my world. I was really touched. I've always proclaimed its the little things that matter most to me. Finally, someone listened.

Now I have 2 cards on my dresser.