Postcard from the Past

I was rifling through my old college things, a small fan, a can opener, some old books, and a few desk trinkets when I discovered it. The small picture frame with a postcard inside. It was a cheap, plain, black frame with a simple postcard of a house with those iconic balloons on it. I stared at that postcard, scanning my mind for where it came from. It was an art piece I knew, one I had loved at some point in my life, but I would never have bought this for myself or put it in such a plain frame. My Up phase had faded, but something about this image took me back to a time that I can smile back on, even though I know I hated who I was back then. 

It was my freshmen year in college, I didn’t have many friends yet and even though I walked with a confident arrogance that I was untouchable, I feared that I wouldn’t fit in. I have always been told I was eccentric, a bit of a mad intellectual, and somewhat of a snob. I have incredibly high standards for myself and I can’t help having an expensive taste, but somewhere amidst it all, I really was scared. What if my best didn’t measure up? What if I made a complete idiot of myself or if people didn’t recognize my work? I had always been a part of the best of the best, but now I was in a bigger pond. 

Soon enough I made some friends, I met some meaningful, but simple-minded people who, despite their inability to appreciate the finer things in life, were kind and willing to hang out with me. Among them, I met a girl who struck me as interesting. She claimed to have a boyfriend but never really seemed happy about that fact. We got along pretty well, talking about philosophy, friendship, religion, and ethics. Eventually, as you can guess, I made her my girlfriend. 

We’ve all heard that story though, a distant boyfriend loses and the sweet new guy wins. Roll credits. But like any good sequel, there was more to it than that. What they don’t tell you about stealing someone’s girl is how she still pines for him from time to time. How she’s not really ready to choose you and how rushing in, sometimes you forget to sort out some of your differences. She was far too different from me, far too sweet and simple and good. But she tried, and damn she tried hard. I suppose that was one thing I liked about her, no matter whether she got it or not, she tried. It was nice to have someone try so hard and know it was all for you. 

Just like that, remembering how hard she tried, I’m shocked back into the present and to the plain frame in front of me. I turn it over in my hands and remember when she gave it to me. She was timid about the fact that this was my Christmas present when I had gotten her some expensive, but an impersonal gift, but I was truly touched by her effort. I decide to keep the silly postcard but ditch the frame and I start to work on pulling it out. 

As I lift the back off the frame I realize there are words on the postcard, words I never read when she gave it to me. I scramble to toss the frame aside and scrutinize these words. 

Michael, 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I’m so glad I met you and I can’t wait to see what this year has in store for us. You’re such an intelligent, talented, and handsome guy and I’m so glad I get to call you my boyfriend! I know you might never read this, but if you do, know that I really care about you.

Sincerely,

Catherine 1/7/2016

I read and reread those words. She took a chance on writing a message I might never read. She was so excited for that year, but I know she broke up with me two weeks after the card was dated. What had changed in those weeks? Were her words even real? I wanted to rip up the card and write it off as ingenuine, but somewhere a little voice inside of me told me that she meant it and I was the thing that changed. 

Thinking back to the fight we had before we broke up, words and phrases leaked into my mind. She asked if I was content in our relationship and I told her I was. But it wasn’t until she had broken up with me that I realized she was hoping I would have asked her back. I told her she was emotional, I said she was spoiled, that she expected too much and that I would always love her but I thought I was too complex for her and I was on to bigger and better things. The words I said years and years ago taste bitter now. I think I understand what changed in those two weeks now. I think I know it was me. 

I shut my eyes and try to remember what she said to me when she gave me this picture. Searching for a sign that she turned on me and that I wasn’t really as cold-hearted as I remember. I think back and I remember her giving me this simple little picture frame and I see something apologetic in the memory. She apologized that it wasn’t bigger or grander, but said it was a symbol of hope and a goal to strive towards. She echoes my words and says she bought it when I said that I would use my first paycheck to buy a larger version of the piece for my office. 

I think back to my first paycheck and I know I didn’t keep the promise I made to myself from way back then. I wish I could say I had matured since then and that’s why I never bought it, but as I stare at this postcard I remember why I loved Up the way I did and it doesn’t seem so childish anymore. The story reminded me that you’re never too old for adventure and you’re never too old for change. Over the years my ego had grown, eroded, calcified, and crumbled. Each experience shaped me and somewhere along the last few years, I forgot that message. I believed that dreams don’t really matter as much as ambition and I was so set on my path that I never bothered to pause and take the scenic route. The postcard felt heavy in my hands now, I had a lot of junk to go through, but I decided to fulfill my promise first. 

Years had come and gone and I know she’s moved on, but I took my offering to the place we had once shared many memories. I set it gently on a bench and figured someone, somewhere would find it and take it home. I hoped it was her, but I knew it wouldn’t be. I rested the painting of the beautiful house and hope-filled balloons on that bench and on the back, the unsaid words finally said,

Catherine,

I found your letter and I’m glad I met you too. I’m sorry for everything, but I’m grateful for the reminder that adventure is still out there. I know you might never read this, but if you do, know that I really care about you.

Sincerely,

Michael 7/20/2021