I Packaged a Return

A small modern triumph.

I packaged a return.

No simple task.

Packaging tape, which is apparently a hot commodity in my home, and the printing of return labels and package inserts. Enough friction to make anyone succumb to a mediocre item and swallow the return value just to be free.

I drove to the post office. Then UPS. Then Staples.

A return pilgrimage.

At Staples, I discovered they accept this foreign shipping QR code.

“Oh, that code,” the employee said. “The line for that code is over there.” He pointed near where people pick up prints a liminal space for those already processing something.

The package was scanned.

Or… attempted.

A slight fright prickled goosebumps across my skin when the angle of the scanner couldn’t successfully capture the QR code glowing on my phone. The beep did not beep. Time stretched.

Third time is a charm.

Weary smiles were exchanged between the teller and me as I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. We were bonded now.

“All set,” he said wearily, as if it were his 1,000th return.

I perked up in complete shock.

“Really?”

I scanned the room around me to see who else was with me, locking eyes with absolutely no one. I filled my chest with an accomplished breath. My face lightened. My eyes opened a little wider. I rolled my shoulders down and back.

I looked at the teller and said, “Thank you.”

Not a casual thank you. A survivor’s thank you. As if we had been in a holding cell together for three days with no food or water.

He responded, “Next in line.”

It may take time for others to truly digest what we’ve been through. I’m sure that tonight, in his quiet reflection of the day, he will feel the relief and joy of our shared accomplishment.

I turned on my heels, tilted my head slightly toward the patron behind me, and strode toward the door like cameras were on me and reporters were calling:

How do you feel?
Did you think the scanner was going to work?
What was that QR code?
Have you done this before?
Who does your hair?

“I do it myself,” I said silently and walked out through the double sliding doors.

Time slowed.

I pulled my purse from my forearm to my shoulder. It was lighter than it had been in a month since I’d been carrying that package around with every intention of returning it.

A little lighter now.

And unmistakably more superhuman.

I have never felt more proud or accomplished in my life.

🌅 Hanging By a Sunrise