In 2005 my friend Sue sent me a postcard. One of the many things that make Sue great is her ability to express herself through writing – not typing – just writing. Most of the postcards I have ever received are from her. This postcard is from El Salvador, where she was living at the time. The photo is of a beach town that she once visited and it is beautiful.
The day I received it I must have checked the mail on the way to my car, and for the ride, my gut reaction was to temporarily stick it in my visor so that it wouldn’t become bent or torn. That postcard spent years in my car. About a month ago I actually traded in my car for a new one – my 2001 Corolla needed work that would have cost six times the worth of the vehicle. When I emptied my car of my belongings the first thing I grabbed was the postcard. Then, I took the nearly seven year old postcard and I placed it in my less than one year old car.
For some reason I always forget it’s there until I pull it down, and I’m pleasantly surprised. When I see it I don’t think about beaches. I think about how this card has only slowly shown signs of aging. I think about what’s written on the back, I think I about the time I visited Sue in El Salvador. I think about travel.
There is a particular point in my commute to work, before I get on the highway, when I’m headed right into the sun. That’s when I pull this down. And it jolts me into, not out, of reality. The reality being, there’s more to the world than my daily routine.