Thank you…for never having reported me for indecent exposure, or at the very least for never having refused to deliver our mail any more. I have often half-expected both…there have been ample opportunities. Sometimes by an unknowing ill-timed ring of the doorbell on your part, resulting in a baby/toy/item of clothing placed strategically, but never quite well enough, to cover my modesty. More commonly a total oversight on my part, suddenly feeling the breeze during our doorstep conversation, and realising that yet again I have forgotten to, erm, “cover up”, post-feeding.
I realise that you’ve been on a journey, too. The first few times, when I answered the door in various form of top-half nakedness, it was only after I saw you standing there, noticing that your expression had changed from your usual indifference to one of utter horror, that I twigged that I still had my baby attached, or hadn’t concealed myself properly. One mumbled & mortified apology from me quickly turned into many, many apologies, and you have now perfected the art of handing over the post in the fastest possible way, immediately followed by the speediest retreat possible….sometimes involving backward steps, and yes, I have seen you leaping over the wall to next door.
I wanted to thank you, genuinely so, for your understanding and compassion over the last year. Because without people like you, I would NEVER have had the courage to begin, never mind carry on, breastfeeding my little girl. You see, it’s the best thing that I have ever done, without a doubt. I also wanted to reassure you faithfully, as I consider an end to feeding my little girl, that soon you will be able to come to my house and not feel pressurised by the possibility of seeing far more of me than is strictly necessary. And maybe even open your eyes again. Soon.