Little Big Things

So, every now and then...maybe a few times each week, I open my door to this...a newspaper left at my door. Usually the Herald, but sometimes the Sun.
I'm not sure who it is but I suspect Morris, our neighbour down the hall. Morris is my prime suspect as he once left a 6-pack of beer at our door. Apparently he came over to see if he could share them but we weren't home. Most people would take the beer with them but Morris left it, which I think says a lot about his character. As for the beer...you should have seen Jesse's face. We were afraid to drink it at first as we weren't sure it was ours to drink. There was no card or note...just a micro-brewed token of some unknown affection.

It's also occured to me that it could be Dema, the surprisingly abrupt Buddhist Monk next door...Monk's can be into politics, right? Or maybe she only reads the Sports pages...I'll have to ask.

What I love most about my little front door gifts is that it means that, at some point that day, I will find a few moments to sit down with a coffee (or tea...sometimes it takes a while to find a few moments) and enjoy some current events. I make it at least to the comment and editorial pages...my favourite.

So, whoever my anonymous paper-boy (or girl) happens to be, I wish them all the peace and warmth they bring me with their simple gesture.