“He forgot a letter.”

I say as I flip through the stack of envelopes the lady handed me.

She slowly shakes her head and says, “no that’s all we have for you.”

I twist my mouth to one side and peruse the mail I’m holding one more time. There’s no lavender 5x7 card envelope in the stack. “Are you sure?” I ask again.

The lady behind the desk of our neighborhood clubhouse looks annoyed. She rips her glasses off and points them at me as she speaks. “That, what you have in your hand, is all the mail our postman had for you.” Her voice is stern—final.

I chew the inside of my lip to prevent it from quivering as I back away from the counter and walk out.

I sit in my car, the mail sprawled across the passenger seat. I stare it hoping maybe my eyes are deceiving me and the card will magically appear. It doesn’t.

I contemplate calling him to ask why he failed to make good on his promise, but before I can decide, he calls me.

“Hey,” my answer is dry from disappointment.

“Did you get it?” On the contrary, he’s giddy with excitement.

His tone confuses me, but it’s not enough to undo the damage. “Why would you ask that? You didn’t send it?” My words are intentionally accusatory.

“Yes I did!” He replies defensively. “They said it would be delivered today.”

“To what address Matt? Not mine.” My tone is dry again. I don’t have the strength to fight.

There’s silence on the other end of the phone, and I can hear him typing or scrolling. “I took a picture of it before I mailed it. 401 Hop Trail Drive. It says it right here.” He repeats emphatically.

“It’s HOPE Trail, Matt, hope.” I sigh and drop my head onto the steering wheel.

There’s a literal pain in my chest as my heart breaks for our seven year old daughter who was anxiously waiting for her first birthday card from her estranged father.

But, it wasn’t coming.

He forgot a letter.