As a teenager, I worked at the mall. If I was not at home, school or the horse farm, I was at Elder-Beerman.
When I had children a few anchor stores like Elder-Beerman were still open, but the smaller venues inside became a revolving door for vendors. Soon, Amazon (or a venture out of town) would replace our local shopping destination that was struggling to remain valid.
Our family changed with the times and adapted to Amazon; our willingness to patiently wait on two-day delivery instilled a new sense of anticipation. Sometimes, we even forget what we have ordered so the front porch contains as much excitement as the tree on Christmas morning.
But in the last three years, two of our children have moved out of town to attend college. That hasn’t stopped them from shopping on Amazon despite more retail options in their new locations.
Ah, the convenience of no shopping list, laziness and not having to interact with people.
“Alexa! Order cat litter.”
Now in his own apartment as opposed to a dorm, our oldest visits home less. His “new address” has been added to our family Amazon account.
He is now convinced we have plotted against him to entice him to come home or change his career path to delivery driver.
He sent a text: “Did you guys order me stuff on Amazon or is this a scam?”
Oops.
On his porch? Bird food and Pledge furniture polish.
“With the amount of fake packages around … I thought I was going to have to call the bomb squad,” he said.
A few days later, I saw a delivery notice in our personal email. The email revealed a photo of another package on our son’s front porch. I messaged him this time:
“There is a new living room rug outside your door.”
“Where am I supposed to put that?” he asked.
“On your floor if you like it.”
The story about the need for a new rug deserves its own write-up.
Days later a few things arrived at our home address, the correct address: filters for the air purifier and horse boots.
Good, the Amazon issue has been corrected! No more delayed gratification; two days is enough waiting time these days.
This morning our son texted me again.
“Why is there a mini fridge at my place now?”
Motherhood, Part II, is a recurring column in the News-Sun.
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