WHEN DAYS WHERE LONGER

Wearing only my t-shirt and house shorts,
I walked to the mailbox for the day’s mail. 
Quickly thumbing through it, they were all bills,
With a few pieces of junk and flyers.

As I opened my credit card statement,
I noticed it was now almost past due.
I decided to place a call to them,
Letting them know I just received the bill.

I told them I’ll mail out payment today,
So my balance won’t be credited late.
Before picking up the corded wall phone,
I fumbled for the telephone number.

I heard the dial tone, then continued,
Pressing down each of the numbered buttons.
Between silences, a low grumble played,
Until picked up by a robotic voice.

The voice greeted me, gave me some options,
I pressed the number for billing options.
There was a short wait for a live agent,
Her crystal clear voice confirmed my info.

I proceeded to state my question or two,
She listened attentively while I talked.
She asked if she could put me on a hold,
With my acknowledgment, there was silence.

Within a few minutes her voice returned,
Answering my questions with a smile.
She confirmed my payment will post timely,
So long as its post marked with today’s date.

I thanked her for her time and went on my day.
Put the corded phone back on its cradle.
Then headed to the den for my checkbook,
I wrote out a check for the amount due.

I scribbled in all the payment details, 
Into the mess of a check register.
I gently detached the payment coupon,
From the rest of my credit card statement.

I stuffed both payment coupon and the check,
In the wrinkled envelope tucked within.
Before I sealed the envelope, I checked
Then double checked contents, all good to go.

Found a stamp and a return address label,
And now it was ready to be mailed out. 
I mailed it at the nearest post office,
Making sure its postmark shows today’s date.

In the naive eyes of today’s young folks, 
It only takes a few cell phone keystrokes.
All done before the morning coffee cools,
They never knew anything different.

Yet, there was comfort in those slower steps,
A quiet rhythm woven through the day.
The stamps, the glue and the race to beat the clock,
Life moved at the pace of paper and ink.

But time has a habit of moving on, 
Breaking old routines and changing habits.
We traded patience for convenience,
Losing small rituals we didn’t know we’d miss.