I was cleaning a hotel room when the previous occupant came in, looking for her husband’s keys.
We searched high and low without luck. I finally peeked underneath the bed closest to the wall.
"Don’t bother—that was my bed," she said. "He wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it."
My grandmother told me how she ended up marrying Grandpa. She was in her 20's, and the man she was dating left for war. "We were in love," she recalled, "and wrote to each other every week. It was during that time that I discovered how wonderful your grandfather was."
"Did you marry Grandpa when he came home from the war?" I asked.
"Oh, I didn’t marry the man who wrote the letters. Your grandfather was the mailman."