A-nony-mouse Smiles

For the first time in my life, I couldn't force a smile. I had been through most of it before, just never so many things at once. And the one thing I hadn't experienced before was worse than all the others combined.

The kids were two and thirteen; that alone was enough to warp a smile. I was recovering from surgery, working full time, going to school three nights a week, doing my best to ignore the ugliness of the divorce proceedings, selling the house I had worked so hard on and loved, and watching my father die.

Friends noticed before I did. The engineers on the other side of my office window drew cartoons and placed them on my side of their blinds. Doctors checked me for physical symptoms when they came in to work with me, and the girls in the cath lab invited me up for watermelon. I turned up the corners of my mouth, but didn't convince anyone.

Cheryl placed my mail in the basket one morning and dropped an unopened envelope on the desk. It looked like a greeting card, but my birthday was months away. I couldn't imagine anyone sending a card to the office anyway. I slit the flap, expecting a creative seminar invitation.

It was a greeting card. The outside read Noticed you lost your smile, and the inside, So I'm sending you one of mine. It was signed A-nony-mouse. It worked. I stood the card on a shelf and smiled each time I looked at it.

Similar cards arrived every day that week. No one admitted having any idea who had sent them. I watched for guilty eyes and smiles but found none.

On Friday, a sizeable audience had gathered to watch me open my card. I laughed, and said the greetings were nice but flowers would be better.

A single flower arrived on Monday. I was embarrassed, and positive A-nony-mouse worked somewhere near me. I thanked everyone I passed that day. No one took responsibility. Finally, I told Cheryl the flower made me uncomfortable and asked her to spread the word.

Everything returned to normal, until Friday. Six flowers arrived late that afternoon. I laughed, thanked everyone again, and still they denied sending anything.

Flowers came every day the next week. Word got around and I attracted visitors from other departments. Everyone agreed that A-nony-mouse was quite the nice person, but no one had any idea who he might be. On Friday, I upped the ante. I said flowers and cards were nice, but diamonds would be better.

You guessed it. A single diamond earring. My co-workers liked me, but not that much. When I let them know this gift scared me, they understood. Not only did they promise they weren't responsible, they tried to help me find A-nony-mouse. The florist wouldn't budge, and I had no way to track anything else.

I almost went straight home that evening, but decided at the last minute I needed to unload on the shoulder of the classmate who also came from work and had thirty minutes to kill before class. He had the matching earring. Apparently, I had told him more than I realized.

Thanks to James Moylan's new icon, I've thought about A-nony-mouse again. And he still makes me smile.