I found the card tucked inside an old wooden box.
The paper had gone soft with age.
On the front, a watercolor picture in a round frame.
A young woman and a little girl, cheek to cheek.
Their faces were calm, full of tenderness.
Behind them, blurred branches and bark, as if painted outdoors in daylight.
I read the words slowly, out loud, to myself.
“To my beautiful daughter.”
“Never forget how much I loved you!”
“Even when I’m not beside you, know that I love you.”
“And that I am always proud of you.”
“With endless love, Mom.”
I sat down on the edge of my bed.
My hands were shaking a little.
Who had written this?
Who had kept it so carefully for so long?
I turned it over, looking for a name.
There was nothing else, just the picture and the words.
I thought about my own mother.
She was never one for soft words.
She showed love through chores done quietly, through meals left warm.
“I’m not good with words,” she used to say.
“But you know I love you, don’t you?”
I always nodded, though I wanted more.
I wanted letters like this one.
I wanted a card with her writing on it.
Now she is gone, and I only have memory.
Holding this stranger’s card felt strange.
It felt like holding something meant for me.
“Maybe I was supposed to find this,” I whispered.
My daughter called just then, as if on cue.
“Mom, are you okay?” she asked.
“I found an old card,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”
“What does it say?”
I read it to her, slowly, word by word.
There was a pause on the line.
“That’s exactly how I feel about you,” she said.
My throat tightened.
“I don’t say it enough,” I admitted.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I know.”
But I wanted to say it anyway.
“I love you,” I told her. “I’m proud of you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
We talked a little longer, about small things.
After we hung up, I looked at the card again.
The young woman and the girl, still cheek to cheek.
I decided to write my own card that night.
Simple words, honest words, nothing fancy.
I signed it “With endless love, Mom.”
I left it on my daughter’s pillow the next visit.
Love does not need the right words.
It only needs to be said.