The Postcard

February

The chill of February was abrasive to Julie’s nose as she turned onto Redfern Drive. The narrow road lined with cracks and potholes sent her truck bumping along as she pulled up to the first mailbox. Julie pulled out the stack of advertisements, bills, and community newsletters from her passenger seat and slid them into the mailbox, removing and tucking the letter to someone in Illinois into her bin of outgoing mail. She drove from box to box, getting lost in her thoughts as she went through the mundane task–mail in, mail out, day by day. A cluster of cars parked alongside the road made it tricky to maneuver close enough to the mailbox of 318 Redfern Drive, and in the end she fought down a pang of frustration as she was forced to park the truck and get out, thus slowing down her route. Much more of this and she would be late to her daughter’s carpool.

As she jogged to the mailbox, she noticed a number of people coming and going from the small house, most going in with bouquets of flowers and covered casserole dishes and coming out empty handed. The apparel of the visitors was undeniably drab, men and women and a few small children in a monotony of black, gray, brown, and darker shades of purple and blue, looking like a somber parade. An older couple lived at 318 and had for as long as Julie had driven the route, and she felt a sudden heaviness in her stomach. Heart sinking with mingled dread and sadness for the husband or wife of 318 Redfern Drive, Julie climbed back into her truck and slowly continued down the road. The sky overhead was cloaked in gray and as Julie finished her route, raindrops began to fall.

March

The day before Julie’s 34th birthday was crisp and clear, a cool breeze rustling through elm and oak trees. She was leaving the following day with her daughter for a short weekend at the beach thanks to a friend who was willing to let Julie use their family condo, and the chance to spend uninterrupted time with Cindy made her heart soar. For the last two years, life had felt like a series of hard times, struggling to make ends meet as the stove stopped working one day and the air conditioner the next. One thing after another seemed to go awry in her tiny house, and Julie felt that it had been months since she and Cindy had gotten to do anything more fun than go to the park. The excitement of two days at the beach with her girl was enough to make her heart burst. 

At the corner house on Redfern Drive, Mrs. Baker’s chocolate lab barked and wagged his tail as she pulled onto the road. Ms. Baker was on her porch, cleaning away the yellow film of pollen that now covered most surfaces since the weather started to warm. She waved as Julie slid her mail into the box, calling out a cheerful “Thank you!” that Julie returned in kind. 

Julie drove up the road and came to a stop at 318. The stack of mail was mostly addressed to Doris Walker, the widow who resided at the home, though some mail addressed to Arthur Walker still arrived most days. Julie had seen a few glimpses of Doris since that day back in February, and she had determined from the flood of letters over the last month addressed only to Doris that Arthur had passed–what happened, Julie still didn’t know. The old white Lincoln still sat parked in the carport, but it was rapidly becoming coated in pollen whereas before it could rarely be seen with a speck of dirt on it. 

Julie wondered about Doris and how hard it must be for so many memories and aspects of life to be painted in before and after. Before, Julie would see Doris and Arthus at times out in the front yard, inspecting the flower beds as Doris pointed as this or that, seemingly giving Arthur a task or two that Julie felt sure he did with a smile. After, Julie noticed that the weeds were starting to encroach on the beds, and it looked as if nothing had yet been planted for spring.

Julie slipped the letters and advertisements into the box, and after gazing at the house again she went on her way.

April

A series of storms early in April left a number of potholes on Redfern Drive full of water, making it more difficult to determine which were the more treacherous holes that could do damage to her truck. Her shoes were soaked through from when she had to get out to deliver mail or packages, but she tried her best to avoid getting mail wet as she rolled down the window or jogged to front porches. 

At the Baker residence, the chocolate lab watched her from inside the living room, banished from outside play on a day as wet as today. Julie set the family’s package at the front door where it would stay dry and stepped over puddles on her way back to the truck. No matter how hard she tried, some mail still managed to get wet from the spray of rain that pounded at every crack of the window or door. Most of the mail by this time was already damp just from the sheer humidity of Alabama rain storms. 

As Julie pulled up to 318, she organized the stack of mail for Doris, trying to be quick and efficient, exposing mail to the elements for as little time as possible. There were only a few pieces of mail today, as the personal letters had slowed to a trickle over the last several weeks. One piece inadvertently caught Julie’s eye as she picked up the small stack–a utility bill, envelope thick as if full of too many pages, with a harsh red PAST DUE stamped on the front. Julie didn’t want to be nosy and knew that her residents had a right to their privacy, but it was hard not to feel concerned for Doris. The house and yard looked more derelict every week, in need of a good washing and trim. But the car in the carport seemed a little cleaner–perhaps it had been out in the rain the last few days.

There were no cars other than the Lincoln at the Walker house today, and it had been several days since Julie had seen any others parked there. Julie was overall unaware of Doris’ life, if she had family in town or how many friends she had. There certainly seemed to be a number of people that day in February at the house, but funerals had a way of drawing family and friends from long distances. 

That wasn’t the only day Julie was the deliverer of unwanted mail that month–as the weeks passed her heart ached as she slid several other notices into the mailbox stamped with angry red. As April drifted on, Julie felt that she was delivering more bad news than good.

May

The summer heat blistered Julie’s skin as she drove with her windows down in the warm May air. She was a summer person–she thrived in these summer months and she much preferred the heat of the summer to the painful cold of the winter. This summer looked especially exciting for Julie and her daughter, and Cindy was bubbling with joy as Memorial day slowly approached. Julie had saved up enough money over the last year that she was able to purchase a membership for her and Cindy to the community pool. Cindy was already dancing around the house in her blue bathing suit dotted with colorful pink flamingos–Julie was better able to contain her excitement than her 9-year-old daughter, but she too was looking forward to summer days by the pool. 

The evidence of summer was almost tangible–several houses on Redfern in particular had small inflatable pools filled with water for brave children who didn’t mind that it wasn’t quite warm enough for swimming yet. Window boxes were full of flowers happily blooming. The Baker’s chocolate lab was once again running around in the yard, jumping in and out of the sprinklers watering the grass. 

Even as Julie pulled up to 318, she thought that Doris’ yard looked a little brighter and more lively, though that was likely due to the wildflowers that had sprung up in the uncut lawn. Even so, they were a breath of fresh air for the worn down house. Julie had seen Doris outside a handful of times in the last several weeks, taking the trash to the can or sweeping off the porch, but she never saw her out for long periods and the chairs on the front porch where she and Arthur could be seen in the past were now usually empty. 

Julie collected the stack of mail for Doris, and a brightly colored postcard grabbed her attention. It contained a picture of what appeared to be a small seaside town, with quaint red and blue and white buildings lining the seashore and a number of piers with fishing boats docked in their midst. At the bottom of the picture was printed the name ROCKPORT, MAINE in bright red letters. It looked like a postcard from a fairy tale, so different from the small Alabama world that Julie was used to. Without meaning to, Julie glanced at the back of the postcard and read three short sentences: “Grandmom, we love and miss you! I tried calling you the other day, but the phone call didn’t seem to go through. Please let us know if we can do anything for you, and we would love to have you come and visit! Love, Rachel and Joey, Ethan and Brian”.

Julie felt a pang of worry when she read the part about the phone. Did Doris not have a working phone? Did she have any way to get help if she needed it? She sat there feeling anxious for some time, torn between worry about the elderly resident and confidentiality. Surely she couldn’t admit to Doris that she had read the postcard? And she felt certain in the last several days that she had seen movement–curtains open one day and closed the next, lamps off yesterday turned on today. Julie resolved to not say anything just yet or intrude on Doris’ privacy any more than she already had, but rather to continue being mindful and watchful.

Decision made, she put the truck back in drive and drove down to 320 Redfern Drive.

June

With summer well underway, the long days gave Julie time to enjoy with Cindy after she finished work. Although she had to be at the post office early in the morning to work on sorting and loading mail before beginning her route, she was able to finish by five most days and still have time to watch Cindy ride her bike up and down the street. They also spent as many evenings at the pool as they did on the street, Julie enjoying the sound of Cindy’s laughter and splashing as she played with other kids. She got to know some of the other moms from the neighborhood, something that she had been eager to do for some time. 

After spending several weeks getting to know them, they told Julie about a trip that they were planning in September–they were going to Napa Valley for a long weekend and asked her if she’d like to join. Julie nervously dodged the question that evening and went home with Cindy later, dreaming of a weekend getaway with other women, lounging on beautiful patios in California surrounded by vineyards. It sounded like an absolute dream, but a dream it would stay because Julie barely was able to make ends meet now. Nevertheless, she had a little extra in her savings and she day dreamed about visiting wine country. 

She turned one Monday morning onto Redfern Drive, thinking about a luxurious girls trip, and was almost too lost in her thoughts to notice the sign posted in front of Doris’ home. When she did finally notice it, she had to read it three times to grasp the meaning.

Foreclosure: House for Sale.

Julie sat in the truck, staring at the house blankly for several minutes. Her thoughts darted from one to the next as she tried to make sense of it all. She had seen Doris outside just the other day, taking a bag of trash to the bin, and today her car was still in the carport. How could this be? Julie had continued to see the various letters come occasionally with red letters stamped on them, but this seemed to have happened so fast. What was Doris going to do? Did she have any family around, anyone to help her? It had been a long time since Julie could recall seeing any other cars at the house, but she also could have just missed them.

Movement to her left caught her eye, and Julie saw Mrs. Baker walking the chocolate lab down the street.

“Excuse me,” Julie called to Mrs. Baker. The woman smiled as she turned towards her. “Do you know what happened to Mrs. Walker? Is she moving somewhere?”

Mrs. Baker did a sort of wince that could have been sadness or pity before responding, “Well, none of us are sure where she’s going to go. Haven’t seen her out much in the last few months and it seems that she’s having some financial trouble. Lisa down the street here said that Doris got behind on a lot of her bills after Arthur died, but no one seems to know what’s really going on. She’s still there, but I haven’t had a chance to check on her.”

Julie was saddened by the lack of information that Mrs. Baker was able to give, but she did seem able to confirm the worst: Doris was in trouble. Julie drove away from Mrs. Baker in a flurry of worry. She hoped that someone would be able to help Doris, but she had no idea if the woman had any family or support in the area.

Later that night after Cindy had been tucked into bed, Julie lay awake, trapped in the hopeless cycle of thought: surely someone would help her, but what if no one did? And if I don’t do something, she thought, how can I be sure that anyone will? 

When sleep still eluded Julie at midnight, she climbed out of bed and pulled out books and papers. She did some calculations and sealed an envelope, tucking it in her work bag. The following morning, Julie pulled onto Redfern Drive before the sun had started to brighten the sky and left an envelope simply labeled “Doris” on the doorstep. Not knowing Doris and having barely spoken to her, Julie was hesitant to make her identity known for fear of Doris feeling like she was intruding or taking pity on her. So she left the envelope, said goodbye to California dreams, and drove away.

July

It wasn’t but a week later that there was more bustle around the house as furniture was moved out and the place emptied. Julie always looked for Doris to see if she could talk to her for a moment, but there were always other people around the house, moving furniture, cleaning, cutting grass and planting flower beds as if getting the home ready for a new owner. Julie still wasn’t able to get any information out of the other residents as to what Doris was planning to do. 

A few weeks into July, Julie pulled onto Redfern Drive to the sight of American flags and red, white, and blue streamers still left over from parties on the 4th of July. As she pulled away from Mrs. Baker’s house and pulled up to 318, she spotted a young woman walking out of the house and loading a box into a nearby car. Doris’ Lincoln was nowhere to be seen. As Julie stopped and opened the mailbox, the young woman met her eye, waved, and ran over to meet her.

“I’ll take that for you!” She said cheerfully, reaching for the small stack of mail. “I’ll give it to my grandmother.”

Julie perked up with excitement as she surveyed the young woman again. “Your grandmother?” She asked. “Is Doris Walker your grandmother?”

“She is! My husband and family are here from Maine, and we’re moving Grandmom to come live with us. I’ll be stopping by the post office later to set up her forwarding address.”

Julie could almost faint with relief at the news. “That’s good to hear,” she replied. “Since I’d seen the foreclosure sign, I’d been wondering where she would be moving to.”

“Well, we’d been having trouble getting any information out of Grandmom, and actually didn’t know about the financial problems she was having. But someone left her some money one day with a note saying they hoped she would be able to use it to visit family and so she did. She came to Maine and she told us about the foreclosure and everything. We’ve been working on getting her moved since then.”

Julie thought she saw a tear in Rachel’s eye, because this was surely the same Rachel who had sent the picturesque postcard from Rockport, Maine.

“I just wish I could thank whoever left the money for her, but Grandmom swears she has no idea who might have left it.”

Julie smiled to herself, feeling a rush of gratitude to know that Doris would be well loved, and simply replied, “I guess sometimes we don’t know where our gifts come from.”

She smiled at Rachel, told her to wish Doris all the best, and drove away from 318 Redfern Drive.