In August 2002 I walked up to my mailbox one morning, beside the little-traveled road
where I now live, to discover it was stuffed with two bulging manila envelopes.
Phyllis had returned to Canada many years ago, but we continued to correspond.
Her husband had passed away that spring, and in downsizing her possessions, she rediscovered
my letters. "I have reread them," she wrote, "and thought that you - and maybe even
your children - might enjoy reliving your time there."