May all your knobs sparkle
When we combed through papers collected by my mother-in-law we found a cache of greeting cards.
We excavated cards written by her husband of 72 years, and cards she drew and wrote for him.
The cache revealed a sweeter side of my mother-in-law’s temperament that was—at times—prickly.
Her hand-written greetings remind me that a gift from the heart packs more meaning than stale chocolates from the grocery store.
I found similar gems that folks wrote in a 13-word exercise for The New York Times.
Readers embroidered a Westernized Haiku in 13 words to express gratitude and despair.
Here’s one salty entry:
My dog would hide his clothes. Should’ve been my first clue. Dogs know
And a passionate ploy:
Boy meets boy. Sparks fly. Boy kisses boy. Boy, oh boy, oh boy
I tried my hand at 13 words for my Valentine:
As we craft our own language our relatives race for the door knob
Pictured: my father and mother-in-law, Walter and Violet Emery
16 February 2018