On Friday, I received postcards in the mail that my Mother and I had written decades ago to my grandparents at P.O. Box 172 Slope County, N.D. My Mother’s was in her Copperplate handwriting, addressed to her parents. Mine was in the handwriting of a little girl, addressed to my grandparents.

My cousins are going through my aunt’s stuff and sending me stuff that is associated with my Mom and with me. Not surprisingly, my Depression-era Slope County ancestors threw away nothing.

I did not cry when I opened the mail. I acknowledged the past.