Instead of driving APCs, he now drives a red grocery delivery truck. Instead of being on a mission to kill the enemy, he is now on a mission to feed his new friends. Instead of smelling sweat, death, and diesel, he now inhales the scent of celery, bread, and what is on sale this week.
He now lugs heavy bags of groceries for senior citizens, people with physical disabilities, those he can’t drive, and anyone who can’t do it for themselves. It is “the same but different” as lugging 120mm Mortar Shells.
Lately, he’s been feeling down, wondering if he made the right decision by moving to Canada. This morning, he is very much questioning his decision, because while out delivering groceries and running his butt off to meet his quotas and avoid getting fired, he has to struggle through 8 inches of wet, heavy snow that fell overnight.
The temperature is above freezing, so big chunks of snow are falling off trees and hitting him while he runs up to the doors with groceries. The Canadian snow bombs remind him of Russian “incoming”. Many walkways haven’t been cleared yet, and roadways are a sloppy mess.
He’s feeling really down and worried when one customer calls him back to their house after he’s dropped off groceries. He thinks he is about to get yelled at.
“Ziv!” the customer calls out. The crippled old man knows that the grocery guy is named Ziv because that’s the name he’s seen on the app every time he has ordered groceries over the last year.
Ziv returns to the door meekly, expecting the worst.
Instead, the hunched over geezer holds out his hand, a $20 about to move from it to Ziv’s.
“I appreciate all your efforts.”
Ziv smiles, and the two people shake hands. Suddenly he was happy to be in The Great White North, a place where palms are greased, not tank tracks.
“Merry Christmas, Happy New Year.”
Perry's Pen 
Leave a comment