Dear Wigleaf,

This postcard is a confession, or maybe an apology. When I was little, 9 or 10, my grandmother got her pantyhose stuck in the vacuum cleaner. It was about a year after my grandfather died and she was staying with us for a week. She called out to me to help her, but I was home sick, which is the only time I was ever allowed to play video games without sharing, so I ignored her. When I finally paused the game and stomped into her room, she was sitting on the edge of the bed crying, the vacuum upside down on the rug in front of her and the foot of one leg of her panty hose tangled around the rollers. I laughed at her.

I'm 54 now, just a few years younger than my grandmother was then. I imagine it must have been hard for her to call out for help, sitting there on a twin bed in a guest room a thousand miles from her home. I imagine she probably tried everything first, including laughter, and that the vacuum was probably the last of a string of things that hadn't been easy over the past day, week, year. Maybe decade.

So, I guess I hope something in your world is easy today, that you catch a break. And if you don't, I hope someone kind is there to help you.

Sorry,

Emily