Letters
To write honestly and with all our powers is the least we can do and the most. - Eudora Welty
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Letter Number Five (5)
Dear Library, I am afraid it has come to this. We’re over. It’s through. Your fines are extreme and reveal to me clearly my problems with schedule, routine and consistency. I don’t appreciate the way you continually remind me of my flaws. And charge me for them, as well. We can still be friends. I’ll stop by every now and then for a free program. Trust me, it’s not you. It’s me. But I can no longer check out your books. I cannot commit to visiting you every week. We just cannot see one another like we used to. Sincerely, Me
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I Can & I Can’t. I Will & I Won’t.
Dear My Children, I can’t or I won’t pay the full cost of your first car. Your father and I probably won’t be footing the bill for your entire college education. The latest fashions at Abercrombie (or fill-in-blank-overpriced-popular-store-at-your-appropriate-age) won’t be paid for out of my debit card. I might not be able to afford one hundred percent locally grown, organic foods from the Whole Foods market for every meal. I can’t promise to answer “yes” to every question of “Can I?” that you will inevitably present to me. You will have opportunities that you will have to miss. Parties you will not be allowed to attend. You will hear the…
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Letter Number Four (4)
Dear Otto’s Nursery Worker, I don’t know why I do not know your name. I am sorry for that. But I do know something about you. You make me happy. Every. Single. Tuesday. You are a blessing – and here’s what funny. You are a stranger to me. To my ten-month-old son. But every week when you see me enter that nursery room with a grinning baby in my arms, you get excited. Genuinely excited. As if you love my baby too. As if taking care of my son is actually a gift to you. Which made me think. Maybe it is. Sort of. See, I know there will be…
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Letter Three (3)
Dearest Sir Will, You are indeed Good, my friend. Today my son is dressed in a dashing ensemble, constructed entirely by items purchased at your low cost store. Yes. I always launder my purchases before allowing them to adorn my precious offspring’s bodies. But I am okay with that. Why would I pay $42 for a pair of size 6 Gap Chinos at the mall when I can acquire the exact same pair for a mere pittance of $3.00 at your casual storefront? I do wish your clothing was sorted more effectively but if it takes me thirty minutes to unearth five pairs of size 5 pants, I’ll spend that…
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Letter Two
Dear Craig, Your list is cooler than any I have ever made. I love our new sofa. Thanks for your help. Sincerely, Lacey
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A Letter
Dear Lady in the Red Sweater, I like you. I noticed you at church tonight. You lifted your arms high into the air while we sang. You stood up and praised God publicly in the way I only do in my mind. And when we were all sitting down for one song, you couldn’t help yourself. You stood back up. You lifted your arms back in the air. You closed your eyes. And you just praised God. Because you wanted to. Because you could. And I like you for it.
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You’ve Got Mail
Every day when we check the little black mail box at our home, the kids ask, “Who got mail?” (Disregard the poor grammar.) And when the answer is usually someone other than themselves, their little faces turn downcast and they wonder aloud why only mommy and daddy get letters every day. These guys already know the significance of a Real Letter. I have about three friends with whom I (almost) regularly exchange genuine letters. And it is a highlight of my week to receive one of those beautifully hand written envelopes in the mail. I get almost giddy. And I never rip it open right away while I am still…
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Six
Dear London, You make me laugh. Your thinking face is adorable. Your trying-a-new-food face is so serious and thoughtful. Your accents are spot on. (You are your daddy’s daughter, after all.) You are such a good big sister. I love how you help your brother when he is hurt. And I like how you offer your favorite toys to Mosely when she cries. You entertain Piper and make her laugh. You love to pick out onesies for Otto and you always want to cuddle with “his face”, as you say. You are obsessed with food. Every night at bedtime the questions are always the same. “What are we eating for…
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Four Weeks
My Littlest Son, When I discovered that I was pregnant with you, I was . . . . surprised. Not entirely excited. Worried. In shock. I didn’t tell anyone for a long while. Your daddy and I really thought that your big sister Piper was the last little Keigley we would bring forth into this messy world. We were clearly wrong. And then I was so sick. The doctor and Daddy and I thought you wouldn’t survive. Oh, but small one, you are a survivor. And more than that, you decided to thrive. (God decided.) Let me be honest, my little Wilde Fox. Times at our house were not exactly…
