“Hi Mom!” the postcard began, with a “#1” next to the first line. It was postmarked 5 August 2009.
I couldn’t have known it at the time, but it was the first of 1,045 postcards I would send to my mother, Dorothy Jean Habel Moore, until her death in December 2017. I wrote her from Kathmandu, from Martha’s Vineyard, from Rocky Mountain National Park, and from a table in our garden in Emmaus, PA. I wrote her in a car, on a plane, in the rain, and on a train. Mid-postcard, in my office, I often waved off colleagues who had sought me out with questions that were no doubt urgent. Hey, my gesture said, can’t you see I’m doing something important here?
My mission: to let my mom know—times…
