The Postcards No One Knew About
After Siew Lan passed away at 72, her daughter was clearing the flat in Toa Payoh.
Everything was as expected.
Folded clothes. Labeled containers. Old calendars still marked with medical appointments and birthdays.
Then she found the tin.
It was tucked behind a stack of recipe books in the kitchen cabinet. The kind of biscuit tin every Singaporean household seems to have.
Inside were postcards.
Dozens of them.
All addressed to the same person.
Mdm Tan Siew Lan.
Blk 123 Toa Payoh Lorong 1
Singapore.
Her daughter frowned.
Why would her mother send postcards to herself?
She flipped one over.
“Dear Siew Lan, today you sat alone at East Coast Park and ate ice cream without rushing. You did not need to wait for anyone.”
Another.
“Dear Siew Lan, today you walked through Chinatown and bought the earrings you liked. You did not ask if they were practical.”
Another.
“Dear Siew Lan, today nobody called your name for five hours. You felt strange at first. Then you felt free.”
The stamps were real.
East Coast Park.
Chinatown.
Botanic Gardens.
Different dates. Different places.
All mailed.
Her daughter sat on the kitchen floor and kept reading.
For thirty years, Siew Lan had taken small trips around Singapore.
Not far. Not expensive.
Just far enough to be someone other than a mother, a wife, a caregiver.
Just far enough to remember who she was.
Each time, she wrote to herself.
Not long letters.
Just quiet proof.
“Today you chose what you wanted.”
“Today you rested without guilt.”
“Today you existed beyond your duties.”
At the bottom of the tin was the last postcard.
Dated six months before she died.
“Dear Siew Lan, you are still here. Not only in cooking, not only in taking care of others. You are still here.”
Her daughter held that one the longest.
Then she did something she had never done before.
The next morning, she took a bus to East Coast Park.
She bought a postcard.
And for the first time in her life, she wrote to herself.
“Dear Me, I think I am starting to understand.”
She mailed it.
If you love someone, don’t just value what they give.
Notice who they are when they don’t have to give anything.
PS This is a work of fiction inspired by a similar story.
