I got a card from my grandmother today. It was a holiday card from Mama Sonia. A Christmas card on January 12. I can't remember exactly when it was that things changed. Used to be, Mama Sonia never forgot a birthday or holiday; never sent a card out late. She was always on time. And it's sad to say, but at a certain point, her cards were just something we'd come to expect and take for granted.
The first time Mama Sonia forgot my birthday, I was devastated. Not so much that she'd forgotten mine, but that she remembered both my sisters that year. I thought that meant she loved them more. What a silly girl! Eventually, she would forget them all. Not just mine.
And yet, today I got a card. It was from Mama Sonia, but the hand-writing was my father's. He's down there visiting her right now. He must have helped her write the cards. Address the envelopes. I imagine it meant the world to her; she's probably been so bummed that she couldn't do it herself. But there he was in the nick of time--my dad--to help her get those cards out.
I opened the envelope just now, and I think I gasped out loud. Today's card meant way more to me than all of those on-time-cards that I've received in years past. It was a surprising reminder of how much she and he mean to me. It was a glimpse into their intimate relationship that I've never really known or understood. There weren't a lot of words, but it was enough to say, "Everything's okay, for now."