My UPS Guy Is a Fox

On literal foxes, fireflies, and feeling like a kid again

A couple of weeks ago, my husband Mike heard a bump in the night. There was a thudding on the front porch, so he got out of bed to check it out. When he returned, I groggily asked if everything was okay.

“Yeah. I guess it must have been UPS because there was a package at the front door. But then I looked up and there was a fox walking down the street.”

I went back to sleep, thinking it was all a dream until the next morning when he reiterated over coffee that there was a thud, a package, and a fox at 1:30 in the morning. I had so many questions, not the first of which was Why would UPS be delivering in the middle of the night? It felt like a scene from a J.K. Rowling novel, and I half wondered if Donnie, our UPS driver, was not the Muggle I thought him to be.

Since the incident, Mike has told the story a few times, and the fox tail grows larger and larger with each recounting (Not the tale but the tail. I think it’s up to about 4 feet now). I was beginning to question his sanity until I saw the fox with my own eyes.

Let me set the scene. The weather has been nice in the evenings, and we’ve been sitting outside after the sun drops far enough on the west side of the house to put the east side in shadow. The east side is my favorite because three 25-foot crape myrtles shower light pink blooms when the wind picks up. It’s like snow, and we don’t get much of that in our region of the world.

The trees line one side of a deep hollow that is covered with lush grass and layers upon layers of kudzu where various birds and animals like to hide. As darkness sneaks in, a paparazzi of fireflies light up this bowl in the landscape, transforming it into a enchanting scene that makes you forget your troubles for a while.

A few nights ago we were enjoying the light show when Mike whispered, "Look," and pointed toward the street. There on the back side of a pecan tree in the shadow cast by the streetlight, the famed fox stealthily made its way across the yard. And it indeed had a very, very long tail. We watched it for a few minutes before it hopped the curb and sauntered down the street.

We live one block off Main Street in a small town in Mississippi. We do have some wooded areas near us, but to see a fox walking down the street as if going to visit an old friend is just plain strange. And also a little magical, don’t you think?

Last night we were sitting in our screened gazebo when I got a call from the 20-year-old I mentioned in my last post (Everyday Tasks). He is two weeks clean, and when I asked how things were going, he said, "I feel great! I feel like a kid again."

He laughed a lot--the kind of laugh I haven't heard from him in a couple of years. And he said he had started drawing again, a talent that has been dormant since he began using drugs.

Something the kid drew when he was 14

This conversation and the idea of a person returning to their normal selves after detoxing made me think of my recent digital declutter based on a book I'm reading. I'll dedicate a post¹ to that soon, but just know I removed 160 apps from my phone. Yes, you read that correctly. 160!

I removed all optional apps--things I don't really need to have immediate access to like personal email, YouTube, weather apps, various store apps, social media, and even my music apps. Then I had to find ways to fill all that time I used to spend scrolling.

Here's what’s happened: my brain has been emerging from a fog. I am reading more, ruminating on what I read, journaling, reflecting on conversations with others, having conversations with others, sending letters and notes, identifying common threads in my days. I'm still not cooking much, but hey...let's tackle one problem at a time!

I’ve prioritized sitting quietly in serene spaces with my head on a swivel looking for creatures that fill me with wonder, and last night we saw that fox again. I’ve named him Donnie because I’m still not convinced he’s not our UPS driver.

Donnie wandered the yard in the shadows for 20 minutes while we watched from inside the gazebo. He came very close a couple of times, but I think he was too focused on his quest to even notice us.

How often are we like that—so distracted by all the things we're chasing that we don't take time to sit in wonder, to enjoy the simple pleasures that make us feel like a kid again? Tell me about a magical moment you found today.

1. Digital Detox