In May1962, my immediate family drove across the state of Tennessee with my beloved grandparents. My sister and I rode on a black sofa cushion in the back of Mr. Pontiac, a two-toned station wagon. Air flowed through the grate covering the open window as we traveled to my aunt’s college graduation.
Aunt Mary Ann waited on a corner downtown to show us our motel. My father told us to be on the lookout, and we yelled when we spied her. My four-year-old mind marveled that she knew when to expect us.
Last weekend, I opened a box from my nephew’s storage unit. Hidden among my grandfather’s report cards, newspaper clippings of family milestones, and much more was this postcard.
I look at the postcard and feel the roughness of that black sofa cushion. I have almost wept remembering those magical days. My brother feels the same about his third-grade fire captain certificate found in the box.
May God bless Melissa for protecting these treasures and Maria for passing them along.
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