Postcards Never Sent

A small sampling 

I have always loved postcards, mostly receiving them, because, for most of my life, I never traveled anywhere that would have anything souvenir-ish attached to it. Therefore it was rare that I mailed a postcard to anyone. It seemed silly to send postcards from Rehoboth Beach, where we’ve spent every summer for the past 38 years (“Surprise! It’s Elise! Greetings from the same boardwalk I’ve sent you photos of for decades!”)

When at last we began to explore a bit of the world, I’d buy postcards, actually write messages, and either mail them once I got home, or never send them at all. Finally, I realized that deep down I wanted to keep the cards myself, to remind me of my various journeys. And here’s the thing: postcards are cheap, compared to most other stuff I could buy to commemorate a trip. If you have seen our home, you can vouch for the fact that we are not interiorly decorated, not by a long shot. Not for us the displays of little Limoges figurines from France, nor the Peruvian woven throw pillows. It’s all we can do to keep our 100% American stuff in halfway decent shape, believe me.

So now I buy a few postcards wherever we roam, and tuck them away in my travel journals. They are lovely (cover shots I could never capture with my camera or phone), and just looking at them immediately evokes the countries we’ve seen. I look at one of the Arc de Triomphe, and right away my legs start to hurt with the memory of climbing up to the very top. I have another of the medieval tower in Lucca, Italy, and recall my sore legs after that ascent. Cliffs of Moher in Ireland? Nothing but climbing, for HOURS. Ouch! I refuse to see a pattern here, by the way. I am not out of shape!! Europeans just walk too darned much!!

I have postcards from our mission trips as well—South Dakota, Alaska, Costa Rica, Guatemala, West Virginia. These tell different stories, of the times when I am not a tourist, nor a local, but somewhere in between. I look at the natural beauty of these locations, and remember the stark contrast with the poverty and struggles of many who call these places home.

Steve and I are going on another adventure abroad in the spring, this time to Germany, Austria, Hungary and the Czech Republic. And I already anticipate another assortment of scenic postcards, undefiled by handwriting or postage, accompanying us home. Part of me thinks I should just mail these off to my family and friends instead, but I don’t really want to. After all, what would a card from Munich mean to someone who’s never been? Whereas, for me, these inexpensive mementos are a treasure trove, transporting me back to places that have so enriched my life.

Which is why you probably won’t get a postcard from me. But I’m happy to bore you with my slideshows instead! 

From last summer's mission trip to Puerto Rico