Stories That Prove Family Is Life’s Deepest

My grandma would only give me one old postcard for my birthdays.

I would frown and roll my eyes.

I was 17 when she di:ed. When I was 37,

I went to my childhood home and found

a jar with her 17 postcards. I turned one and froze.

It was not just a random postcard.

She had written a small poem about me,

filled with specific details from that year of my life.

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