I got the answer on a postcard

I have a confession to make: I'm a little bit obsessed with vintage postcards.

I've always loved the idea of them, and the fact that they're so ephemeral. They don't last forever, they're meant to be received, read and thrown away - sent from one person to another to create a moment of connection, then forgotten about.

I blame my Mum for sparking my obsession, she always sent postcards from wherever she travelled in the world and I kept every single one, occasionally buying others in antique shops and flea markets to add to my growing collection. I'm fascinated by these fleeting glimpses into the past.

As a music publicist, I spent over a decade writing press releases for musicians. I loved my job, I never thought I'd do anything else, but I began to feel differently after losing my Mum and my Grandad within a few months of each other. I knew life would never be the same again, but I hadn't expected grief to be so... transformative. I started to feel unfulfilled by the work I'd lived and breathed for so long, I needed a greater sense of purpose.

The answer came to me on a postcard.

I'd bought a random selection of vintage cards online as a birthday gift to myself. I unwrapped the box from its packaging and took a couple of postcards from the top of the pile. The second one was in remarkably good condition given its age - it was postmarked 1905, but it was the address that grabbed my attention: 19 Frances Rd, Windsor.

Frances was my mother's name, she's buried in a family grave in Windsor.

This coincidence was made all the more poignant when I read the message on the card.​

"Just a line to let you know am still alive"​

The words of a stranger written in 1905 had travelled one hundred and fourteen years and two hundred miles from their original destination to find me sleepwalking through my life. It's easy to dismiss coincidences, it's less easy to forget the feelings they evoke. This postcard was the inspiration I needed to take my life in a different and more meaningful direction.

I've found my sense of purpose by giving people the words they need, when they need them most.