My friend, Arun, sent me a book all the way from India. I had to go down to the post office to get it.
The woman there took my little orange card and disappeared for a long, long time. She came out, somewhat later, and said, “I can’t read the name on this card. What’s your name, dear?”
“My name is Iqbal,” I said.
“Ick Ball? Your name is Ick Ball?” she said, jotting something down on the card.
“Close enough,” I said, truly believing it was close enough. “That’s with a Q.”
The post office woman took a few notice cards from other people who were there trying to pick up packages, too, and then she disappeared again. It was a long wait. Soon everyone had their packages but me.
After forever, she reemerged and called out, “Quickball! Package for Quickball!”
Ick Ball with a Q.
I closed my eyes and shook my head but at least I had my book!
It was wonderful of you to send me that, Arun. I thank you and I pray your birthday was an exciting start to an exciting year. (Jazak Allahu Khair…)