For over 30 years, two weeks before my birthday and Christmas, something has always arrived.
During that time, I moved four times and changed my address. Yet it never failed to arrive.
It is a handmade greeting card.
They feature brightly colored animals and plants, sometimes with pop-up mechanisms or sparkling sequins that fall out when you open them.
These creatively designed cards always bring a smile to my face.
Attached to each card is a handwritten letter filled with updates on her life, written on both sides of a note.
She and I were classmates for just one month in Santa Monica long ago.
Looking back, we never went out together. We only met and talked at school. That was the extent of our relationship. My true friendship with her began after she got married. The Christmas card she sent that year announcing her marriage and move to Los Angeles was the start of everything.
Before long, her cards began to signal the changing seasons.
When my sons were young, she affectionately called them "princes."
When I told her they were obsessed with basketball, she sent me a pile of NBA articles from newspapers.
Those little princes have grown up and are becoming proper gentlemen.
She sends birthday cards that remind me of birthdays I might have forgotten.
There are sparkling Christmas cards that keep coming even after the children have left home and we no longer decorate for Christmas.
Each card fills me with gratitude and warm joy, knowing she hasn’t forgotten me.
Every time these colorful cards arrive, I feel the unbreakable bond we formed under the Santa Monica sky.
Though I stopped sending New Year's cards long ago, I write her long letters twice a year.
It’s an irreplaceable connection that began over 30 years ago.