Each year I’d address the holiday cards from our family to others. It was a tax I paid for having received so many compliments from teachers about my handwriting.

I would refill my calligraphy pen with a fresh ink cartridge, and attach extravagant loops to each letter. Many of the cards featured a cozy winter scene along with the word “peace” printed on them.

I had a lot of time to sit with that word. It seemed absurd that it existed. Like trying to divide something by zero. An unattainable, wasted word. After all I had a pen pal who was a commander in the Gulf War.

Some words have the power to change their meaning over time though.