< Issue 5 >
Post Cards
by Michael Estabrook
“Does anyone send post cards anymore?”
I’m wondering out loud as
I pick one out in the Eastham General Store.
Cape Cod Light, Truro
The historic lighthouse was built
on Cape Cod in 1798.
Photo by Richard McGee
“Dear Aunt Alice,
Happy Birthday! We’re on Cape Cod
taking a short vacation on your birthday
and are thinking of you.
Hope all is well, Love, M & P”
Oh boy I’m thinking, she’s 86 today,
how did she ever get to be 86
and stuck in a nursing home down in Florida?
And I do think about her frequently
and the good old days:
her dog Shadow,
her drinking pots of tea (Darjeeling) every day,
her rhubarb pies that no one ate,
and that post card she sent me
when she finally earned her Brown belt in Judo:
“Dear Michael,
I made brown belt,
I am delirious!”
Such a long, long time ago,
a forgotten event in time, a distant place,
dead now and gone forever,
nothing remaining except for my memory
and her simple 4 cent post card to me.
Post Cards
by Michael Estabrook
“Does anyone send post cards anymore?”
I’m wondering out loud as
I pick one out in the Eastham General Store.
Cape Cod Light, Truro
The historic lighthouse was built
on Cape Cod in 1798.
Photo by Richard McGee
“Dear Aunt Alice,
Happy Birthday! We’re on Cape Cod
taking a short vacation on your birthday
and are thinking of you.
Hope all is well, Love, M & P”
Oh boy I’m thinking, she’s 86 today,
how did she ever get to be 86
and stuck in a nursing home down in Florida?
And I do think about her frequently
and the good old days:
her dog Shadow,
her drinking pots of tea (Darjeeling) every day,
her rhubarb pies that no one ate,
and that post card she sent me
when she finally earned her Brown belt in Judo:
“Dear Michael,
I made brown belt,
I am delirious!”
Such a long, long time ago,
a forgotten event in time, a distant place,
dead now and gone forever,
nothing remaining except for my memory
and her simple 4 cent post card to me.
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