She waits for the postman each day this time of year.
In her twenties she got tons of cards. There were too many to fit on her faux fireplace mantle. Post-college friends keeping their promise to keep in touch from various far away cities.
In her early thirties she still got a steady supply though more and more the college friends only wrote around this time of year and her birthday. Electronic Mail (e-mail) was the new thing. Still the real cards would signal that the holidays had arrived.
In her late thirties the cards leveled off a bit, friends had got married and started families, no one had time to write, electronically or otherwise. Jokes might be forwarded and sometimes a one-day conversation would occur if you replied back.
In her forties she got a resurgence of cards from all her friends children…her adopted grand children…
In her fifties those trailed off as these grand kids got older and spent less time writing…
Now she waits as the days go by, Christmas quickly approaching. there is one particular card she waits for.
A card from Him — Her missed opportunity.
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