And I still send them.
Cards are a way to keep in touch with friends we talk to only occasionally.
We were a bit lazy this year: we posted our greetings, sent calendars, but failed to list our accomplishments.
Some of our pals tuck in reports of their activities, their children’s accomplishments and updates on their cats and dogs.
Highlights. Laurels. Successes.
Our accomplishments are mundane by contrast.
With disappointment I report we won no Nobel nor MacArthur awards.
But I can report we get up every day before dawn.
We take out the garbage on the appointed hour.
We pay our bills.
We take the pup on walks.
Sometimes we make the bed.
I look at a photo given me by my Lakota relative, John, that shows two women with a travois and their babies. A tipi rises in the distance.
My Indian ancestors didn’t send holiday cards.
But they rose at dawn.
They made breakfast.
They loved their families.