One of her daughters said something about letters. They need to be photocopied. They are so wonderful. Everyone at the table was agreeing and discussing the possibilities.
While everyone was discussing, she looked at me, and so I said, "You write a good letter?"
Without stopping to think, she said: "In June, I met a boy—By August, we were writing each other every day."
She paused for second in between the part about meeting a boy in June and the part about August.
For a second, it sounded like it had just happened two months ago. Instead of how ever many years ago she met her husband at that teacher party. How someone told him he wasn't allowed to talk to her because she was the prettiest girl there. None of the other guys wanted to compete with him.
He was fair, so he just asked her out to dinner the next night.
Then he went back to the east coast. And he wrote her letters. And she wrote him back. In October they got married. They'd only seen each other in real life 2 times.
They lived in Iowa and had eleven children.
I'm not sure how many grandchildren.
Never underestimate the loveliness of words.
Of top secret notes.