Postal Service Delivers Magic

As a little girl I thought the postal service was magic. I would write a letter on wide ruled paper, fold it carefully and put it in an envelope and my mom would drive me to the blue box where I would drop it in the slot. Weeks later, my Dad, a young airman in Vietnam would call on a crackly phone connection and say he got it. I would picture my Dad in his starched uniform sitting on his bunk writing back to me. Then weeks later a small…