This piece of Ancestral Intelligence is part of the Tiger Moms Project

Story by Becky Lee:

Ever since I moved out of my childhood home, my mother has sent me postcards, whether I was living in another country, or a state away. They’re always handwritten, often with an envelope so a printed poem can be tucked in. Sometimes she includes a quote, or a congratulatory message. Other times they’re just notes about her day, the flowers she saw on her walk, or what she had for breakfast that morning.

Growing up, my mom had a postcard drawer, a dedicated place for cards, stationary, scraps of paper that caught her eye. It was always left a little open, for easy access but also because the drawer would stick if it closed all the way. The only shopping she enjoyed was for stationary. When I was little, we lived in Chinatown in New York City and used to walk to Bowne & Co in the South Street Seaport together to shop for cards. To this day, I can’t pass a print shop without picking up a postcard or 5.

Leading up to Mother’s Day, I sent my mom a series of four postcards, one a day. I thank her for what she has passed down to me, including the practice of writing and sending physical letters—love letters, really—to the people I care about.