Today I came home from work to find a special piece of mail in the usual pile on my coffee table. My 3-1/2-year-old niece had left a "letter" in my mother's mailbox (with a cat sticker for a stamp) and raised the red flag. To ensure that I would actually receive this precious communication, my mother then snuck it out of her mailbox and into mine. In big, wobbly, but legible letters, my name was written on both the front of the envelope and on the "letter" inside. The well-folded letter also included what I think was a purple portrait of either me or her. Seeing my name spelled out in her childish scrawl gave me a weird flashback to myself at about the same age writing my name on a birthday card for my grandfather. She even made her R the same way I did back then, like a circle with two legs. Making that card is one of my earliest memories. My two nieces are about as close to my own children as I'll ever get, so the moment was one of those full circle things--my niece is me 40 years later. And soon she'll be reading, writing stories, learning cursive (if kids still do that). Her own journey as a writer is just beginning.Today is also the birthday of my sister, the mother of my niece. Since I was nine when she was born, I remember that exciting day--and the progress of her own childhood--well. How fast it all happens. And now that little baby I was convinced was going to be a baby brother, the little girl who wanted to be a ballerina and always posed for the camera, now she has two beautiful girls of her own. Sappy, I know, but that's what inspired me today. Happy birthday, Erin. And thank you for the lovely letter, Fiona.
Those big scrawled letters
K-R-I-S-T-E-N--
are they mine or hers?
Wow, thank you. That was a wonderful birthday gift to read. Love you. xxoo
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