To Mail Orders

I need a winter running jacket, good for windy days when it’s -10. I’m not going to run on those days, but I will feel prepared for the days when it’s 20 and sunny.

I need a dog bed for the old dog. One that will make her feel like she’s living the good life. Kind of the way I hope to feel when I am on a cruise when I’m 75. Settling in very nicely, thank you. I’ll just have a water, please. Your freshest.

I want a new phone. One that no one else has yet; not to be elite but because, when I am fumbling around with it, trying to figure out how to do what, the kid next to me can’t yank it out of my hands, saying, “Let me do it!” I never learn when the kids do it for me. And they always set embarrasing ringtones. I want one the kids don’t know how to work.

I want sunflower seeds. I want them to come from the southern edge of France. I want the package to smell like lavender. I want the order to come with a note from Minou, the woman who ships all the orders. She practices her English in her notes to Great Britain and the United States. She will tell me she would never leave France--jamais!--but the words in English are fascinating. Tumble, Sunday, Doodle, Gutter. Her sentences don’t make literal sense, but they are beautiful. I order more seeds than I can ever plant.