Though she had to keep these letters secret from her pa, she openly shares not each one but some letters to her ma. She sits beside her and they both read it together. Her face lit up by her smile of the assurance of a mother-daughter oath to keep it between them.

Her love letters did not come delivered by a mailman. She receives them hand-delivered in secret missions and sends her written messages back just the same way. Over those years, she has compiled her love letters in a rectangular-shaped album with ivory-white pages and its cover protectively covered with clear plastic, the same kind she uses for her school books. Inside her Love Letters album are pale stationeries and envelopes delicately arranged from the very first puppy-love to the treasures of hand-carried letters from several other young suitors.

Dried stemmed roses and a little-sweet-nothing note on a silver foil candy wrap are noticeably marked as part of her crisp album. Miraculously in awe that her favourite Reynolds blue ball pen used in letter writing still sits inside the book. She remembers her ma telling her, “Don’t throw, return or burn the letters away. One day when you have children of your own, you can show them your asset.” “You can tell your kids, “Look how many suitors mommy had.”

Two beautiful daughters shared her secrets of the love letters she had kept for years to be shared with them when they turned to teens. She tells her girls, “He loves me, he loves me yes.” The girls’ reactions were priceless and are worth the years of waiting to finally share it with them.