The Beginning of the Journey

When Mom married and moved away, Grandma wrote her every week, year in, year out.
Mom saved all her letters.
Mom wrote back, year in, year out.
Grandma saved all her letters.

I have an entire 40 year conversation 
between my mother and her mother. 

I've been putting off reading them, fearful of how big a journey it might put me on, of what I might find. She and I were incredibly close, yet in the years since she left, I've come to realize how deeply private she was. Secrets, hidings. There's so much I don't know about her.

Grandma died in 1991, and Mom died just three years later. [Edit: Grandma died in 1989, five years before Mom.]

23 years ago today, in fact.
It's time to read the letters.