In September, 2010, as I set off for a three-week work trip, I decided I’d write a postcard home to my wife, Stinks, every day I was gone. There was some leeway — if I wrote one the night before or the morning after, no big deal — but I kept it up, not missing a day.
I’ve kept it up since then, too — through Stinks winning two major awards from her school, through my hurting my back, through both of us expecting our first kid. Now, no matter which city I’m in, and even if Stinks is right next to me, I send her a postcard every day.
