The Card Theory

My Mother is upset I don't send birthday cards to her husband of many years. Maybe a person would say I didn't like him, but nothing could be further from the truth. He's nice enough and I'd venture to say he treats my Mother well.

You'd think sending a card would be easy and you'd be right. So why don't I?

I asked my Grandmother on Mom's side why she'd be so upset over a thing like that and my Grandmother says it's because she thinks you don't care. Like and idiot I said, "Grandma I don't send you cards, do you think I don't love you?" "That's right." HOLY CRAP I thought, she's kidding right? I have a picture of this Grandmother and my Grandfather whose passed away in my closet. They're the first thing I see each day and very often the last I see at night. I think of them daily, but she doesn't see it that way. Lunacy! I cry to myself. This is just crazy! But it isn't to them. The card matters.

I find myself guilty of behavior I've loathed in others. My imperfections mount, my beam is huge. It isn't enough to say you love someone, you have to do things, even if it only means a card. So I'll send my step-dad cards, not because he cares, but because my Mother does. And I've already sent the first of many cards off to Grandma. I'm trying to remember, it's not what's important to me, it's what's important to them.

I'm not organized much so I've set up a system that will allow me to succeed. I've bought a whole box of birthday cards, I'll be pre-printing labels and adding stamps so that when the time comes I can catch up in the card and send it quickly. Batch and queue baby, batch and queue.