My parents met in their home town of Denver, Colorado. When my dad moved to Seattle to study architecture at the University of Washington, my mom stayed behind. And that began four years of letters between them. Letters filled with the wonder of discovering a new town, classes and new friends, and football games in the winter. Letters about family back home, visits to parents, how old friends were doing. When my dad graduated, they decided to make the Northwest their home. My mom left family behind and moved to Seattle, where they married and started their new life together.
We never knew these letters existed, until my sister found the box after they died. She carefully arranged them by date, then sat down and read every letter. Then she passed them on to me. They showed us a side of our parents we never knew, a side that most children never get to see. And I am grateful for knowing.