Taken for granted

Wishing you a Merry Christmas that was all the message had said, but it was enough.
These days when the job was done in darkness and the deliveries made to faceless customers still tucked up in bed, when payments were made by the invisible magic of direct debit and the only company were the foxes it was easy for people to forget you.
They took it for granted that when they came down for their morning drink and yawned their way to the front door their milk would be there. Indeed it was now the postman that housewives teased one another about; the milkman was not just another commodity.
Not today though, today the little message had warmed his heart, had made him realise that someone still appreciated him and all the cold and rainy mornings, as well as the mad rush to visit everyone on the hot mornings so the milk didn’t sour. He picked up the bottle which had held the message and held it to his heart as he wandered back to his float, silently thanking the sleeping box for helping him to remember he was a person and not the invisible man.