What does a postman mean to you?
Ever since I moved to the new neighborhood, I have hardly (never, to be precise) seen or bumped into a postman.
This morning, when I was about to enter the office building, I encountered one.
A middle-aged postman, with a faded green suit, rode a green motorcycle and passed me by.
I paid special attention to him, but I guess he didn't notice that.
From that faded suit, I could tell he must have had this job for quite a long time.
Ever since I moved to the new neighborhood,
I have hardly (never, to be precise) seen or bumped into a postman.
Now whenever I want to know if I have mail or not,
I just go down to the lobby and open my mailbox with a key and, there you go:
your mail is lying there, waiting for your picking up.
Even when you have packages or registered mail,
the security guide would always get the stuff for you.
You just stay home and wait for his call.
I guess that's the reason why I miss a postman so much.
I remember when I lived in that 20-year-old building,
I would hear the motorbike horn and then the doorbell would ring.
Sometimes the postman would deliver his message through the doorbell;
other times, he would just shout loud.
Whether the mail I receive is a check or a ticket,
I would always say "thank you" cheerfully to the postman,
understanding that how hard and respectable his job is.
I would never forget lots of joy and sorrow the postman brought me.
I would never forget the first time when I received a love letter in elementart school.
I would never forget the time when I received the result of Joint College Entrance Exam.
I would never forget the time when I received the first English letter written by my penpal in USA.
I would never forget the time when I received the admission letter from USA.
I would never forget the time when I received the flight ticket from the travel agency.
I would never forget the time when I received the result of teacher screening.
So, what does a postman mean to you?
My answer would be this simple and frank.
"A LOT."
Ever since I moved to the new neighborhood, I have hardly (never, to be precise) seen or bumped into a postman.
This morning, when I was about to enter the office building, I encountered one.
A middle-aged postman, with a faded green suit, rode a green motorcycle and passed me by.
I paid special attention to him, but I guess he didn't notice that.
From that faded suit, I could tell he must have had this job for quite a long time.
Ever since I moved to the new neighborhood,
I have hardly (never, to be precise) seen or bumped into a postman.
Now whenever I want to know if I have mail or not,
I just go down to the lobby and open my mailbox with a key and, there you go:
your mail is lying there, waiting for your picking up.
Even when you have packages or registered mail,
the security guide would always get the stuff for you.
You just stay home and wait for his call.
I guess that's the reason why I miss a postman so much.
I remember when I lived in that 20-year-old building,
I would hear the motorbike horn and then the doorbell would ring.
Sometimes the postman would deliver his message through the doorbell;
other times, he would just shout loud.
Whether the mail I receive is a check or a ticket,
I would always say "thank you" cheerfully to the postman,
understanding that how hard and respectable his job is.
I would never forget lots of joy and sorrow the postman brought me.
I would never forget the first time when I received a love letter in elementart school.
I would never forget the time when I received the result of Joint College Entrance Exam.
I would never forget the time when I received the first English letter written by my penpal in USA.
I would never forget the time when I received the admission letter from USA.
I would never forget the time when I received the flight ticket from the travel agency.
I would never forget the time when I received the result of teacher screening.
So, what does a postman mean to you?
My answer would be this simple and frank.
"A LOT."
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