"Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” As a letter carrier for the town of Hamburg, New York, I had to get to work no matter how slick the roads were that dreary December morning.
Driving across the Eighteen Mile Creek bridge in Derby, my tires hydroplaned. Bright headlights bore down on me—the Metro bus headed to Buffalo. There was the sound of crunching metal, the burst of the air bag. The world spun around me.
Next thing I knew, the road was full of policemen and paramedics. I was so cold, colder than the winter chill should have made me. I tried to move, but I was pinned in place. “Get me out of here!” I yelled. No one seemed to hear me.
Then a tall man appeared outside my window, dressed in a long coat and wool hat. “Would you like a blanket?” he asked. He pushed one through the broken window and draped it around my shoulders. Immediately I felt better.
“That paramedic is going to turn around and see you,” the man said. “You will be fine.”
With that, the paramedic rushed over. My blanket kept me warm as rescue workers cut me out of the car and carried me to the stretcher for the airlift to the hospital. “Where’s the man who gave me this blanket?” I asked before getting aboard.
“Blanket?” the paramedic said.
Only then did I realize the blanket wasn’t there. Letter carriers aren’t the only ones working rain or shine.
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