Early last week, the phone rang, and it was my 8 year old niece on the other line.
“Aunt Christina?” her sweet, southern drawled, voice asked.
“Yes, Brittney” I replied, knowing exactly who it was.
“What is your address?” she asked.
I gave it to her.
“I wrote you a letter and I want to mail it to you and I asked mama if she knew what your address was and she told me she didn’t know and to call you and ask, so I did.” She explained matter-of-factly.
“Well, I’m glad you called, and I am really looking forward to reading your letter.”
We talked a bit more and then finished our conversation.
I checked my mail box everyday until I received her letter. Folded neatly in an envelope that was stuffed into another envelope that her mother, my sister, enscribed with the address was a thick piece of fancy stationary.
The outside read:
I turned the paper over. The other side read:
I smiled, giggled a second to myself, and carefully unfolded the paper and began to read:
I like school. I am in 2nd grade. Do you like it in Alaska this year? Has it snowed yet in Alaska? School has gotten hard. My reading group teacher is mean! I am going to tell you how mean she is. When you give her your paper and you have one mistake she will scream it out to every body! I hope you write a letter back.
I couldn’t help but laugh because this was soooo something an eight year old drama queen in the making would write. My sister says she gets it honest….honest from her aunt Christina. I think I was more impressed with her good punctuation, grammar, and letter writing format. My sister swears she did it without her knowledge and therefore without her help. (and I didn’t edit anything for the sake of this post)
“I didn’t even know she’d written you a letter until she asked me about your address.” my sister swears.
I carried the letter around in my jacket pocket for a few days before finally bringing it home and putting it in a safe place and posting about it.
I may not have children of my own, may not ever have children of my own, but I can’t explain how happy it makes me to see that my niece has inherited a fun piece of my personality. Without sounding incredibly hokey, it fills my heart with joy to know that if nothing else, after I’m dead and gone, there will still be a part of me walking around, jumping to conclusions, making mountains out of mole hills, and doing it all while never failing to use good grammar and punctuation. (Current run-on sentence, notwithstanding of course)