Thud

by Stephanie Evans

“B eware of false prophets, who come to you dressed as sheep, but inside they are devouring wolves” (Matthew 7:15, emphasis mine).

I heard a thud on my front porch while I cleaned my apartment, wearing my long old nightgown (with spaghetti straps and tiny blue flowers) tucked into my underwear. (It was a fairly solid thud that made me too curious to wait until I finished cleaning).

I slipped on the plush black bathrobe I found at Walmart and tied it on to find out what had landed outside. Maybe it’s that package from my daughter, I thought.

Robed, I stepped outside and saw the beautiful auburn-haired neighbor with good legs sunning herself. I grabbed the package, stepped back inside, and opened it. I saw the 300-piece puzzle I had ordered for myself, something to do while I and millions of others try to out-wait the danger of a COVID-19 virus pandemic. (But wait, I ordered the puzzle before the pandemic, during a solitary moment, when I envisioned working the puzzle, maybe with a neighbor or two).

Is it really pitiful to order myself a puzzle? I don’t know. I gave the first puzzle I got in the mail to the local library, since the library checks puzzles out to people, at least when the library’s open and not COVID-ized.

I decided to send the new puzzle back to the puzzle club. I got suckered into yet another Christian club by all the pretty pictures and hopes I cannot afford. (My post office friend said it takes a while to get out of such scams, but one key is to NOT open the package and mark it “Return to Sender” before mailing it back).

Anyway, I finished cleaning my place, got dressed, and walked outside. I waved to two lady neighbors now sunning themselves in chairs six feet apart, for COVID social distancing. When I see single men and single women interact around my place now, I mostly feel sorry for the women, who seem to be waiting and hoping and lonely, with sad faces. I understand because only now, at age 68, am I learning some of the joys of being single (again).

Sometimes staying unattached, except to God and healthy-minded friends, is safer and happier.

I remember what my single friend Mark, who resides in another nearby apartment complex, told me one Sunday in church: “Some of the women here are so vulnerable—and thugs take advantage of them.”

Don’t wait on him, baby. Return all thugs—and some thuds.

Still, I looked forward to the Mother’s Day package from my daughter and always to talking with my adult children and my brothers (and my new granddaughter!). They are champions of the beautiful hearts club! (Be careful out there! I hope we get to see each other in church soon!)

P.S. I returned the second puzzle with a cancellation notice. If I get another one, I won’t open it. Now I hope to walk outside. What a beautiful day!

About The Author Stephanie B. Evans is a resident of Cleveland, TN, mother of two adult children and grandmother to one granddaughter. She is a former newspaper reporter, feature writer and library clerk who currently writes on a freelance basis. She can be reached at s.b.evans287@gmail.com