I woke abruptly. My eyes searched out in the dark as my fingers groped for the phone on the nightstand beside me. Flipping it over, I squinted saving the glaring light now piercing the dark of our room. Four am.
I closed my eyes wearily for a brief second before opening them again in excitement. I quietly scrambled for my phone to pull up the tracking page. After all, the customer service rep assured me that the package would arrive in the wee hours of the morning. My phone seemed painfully slow to refresh the page and show the package has arrived…at a station over five hours away.
I dropped my phone back down. The disappointment swirled around at the edges of my mind. Logically I knew this meant not picking up my package prior to leaving town. I clung tightly to a shred of hope.
Disappointment is a strange beast. Mentally, I found myself better at four am than eight am, but truly it didn’t sink in until the time we should have been going to pick it up. The package originally wasn’t even destined to ship for a couple more weeks. But that brief glimmer of hope over having it’s contents for this weekend? That vanishing is the true disappointment.
My hope may have been crushes at four am this morning and the disappointment may swirl murkily at my feet, but I will not let that overwhelm me. I will just shift my anticipation to Monday. Something to look forward to about coming back.