I used to call my mother on Mother's Day and tell her I wasn't calling her because it was Mother Day's and I was supposed to but because I wanted to.

Similarly (?), I would never give Primo (or Bob), the office dog, food, because I wanted him to love me for ME.

There is some kind of idealism and delusionality in each of these, plus a very particular sentimentality.

The wisdom of age, or something, I think/hope, has been moving me away from such narrowness.  Yet I also know and value the heart at the heart of it.

Ordinarily I like to let the postcards speak for themselves, at least in the post itself, but here I am being not narrow on that.  And being unashamed to tell you any of this.