what kind of cake I was baking, focusing instead on the rhythmic arrival of the mail carrier. He would stand by the window, ignoring the festivities I had painstakingly prepared, waiting for that plain white envelope to drop through the slot.
I made several attempts to solve the puzzle during those early years. I became a temporary detective, scrutinizing every inch of the stationery. I examined the postage stamps for regional clues, analyzed the blocky, anonymous handwriting, and even held the cards up to the light to look for hidden
