As has been my custom the last 5 years, I am spending the evening before your birth/birthday writing you a letter. I have just left your bedroom where you are attempting to fall back to sleep after you caught a (possibly too long) nap at Granna and Grannadaddy's. I had taken you there to keep you occupied while I picked up your bike from the shop that assembled it and, it being the end of a long day (your first day at swim camp and a check-up at the doctor where you got two shots), you fell asleep on their couch while I ran the errand. You slept on the way home, but wanted to see Siouxsie when we opened the door.
That's one of the things I love about you - you're always excited for a chance to socialize with people (or animals). You've shown this year, once again, how very social you are and how people are drawn to you because of your friendliness. Your teacher, Miss Jan, told us at the end-of-year parent/teacher conference that you are the most social and welcoming student she has ever had. She told us that a family had come to tour the school and see if Montessori would be a good fit for their daughter. She took the family out to the playground where the Montessori class was playing and she started to introduce you, but the father said, "Oh, we've already met Evie." You had come up to them while they were walking into the school and told them your name, asked their names, and welcomed them. Your classmates sometimes argue over who gets to play with you, and you have cultivated good friendships with Sasha and, of course, Desmond. You've also impressed adults. Mr. Bob and Ms. Eve claim that you are one of the main reasons they decided to join our church, because you welcomed them even before any adults had a chance to say hi. You are friendly and charming, and people are drawn to you.
This year you've also acquired some impressive athletic skills. You are graceful and strong, easily one of the better students in your gymnastics class. You are very familiar with those routines, and I'm certain there has not been a single day this year that you haven't done some kind of push up on furniture. Soccer may not have been your thing, but not for lack of physical ability. You are constantly on the move and increasingly agile.
You've certainly learned a lot this year. You have gained addition and subtraction skills, and you're starting to read. You are quite interested in unlocking the code of literacy and are always eager to be read to. This year we've read chapter books and you are able to follow the storylines with surprising attention.
This year is the first year that I've caught little glimpses of what you might look like as a young woman. Your face is slimming out, your features are becoming more defined, and you are absolutely gorgeous. Those huge eyes and long eyelashes, that thick hair with so many colors in it from being kissed by the sun... sometimes your beauty astounds me.
But more than anything, my dear girl, I have been impressed by how in tune you are with the things that are internal and eternal. You have been concerned this year about death and heaven, trying to solve the mystery of what happens when we die and whether we will all be together. You have had deep insights into the relationship God has to his creation, how he wants us to treat each other, and how he made us able to love. You have grasped the idea that the relationships we have are forever - that no matter how old you and I get, or even when I die, I will always be your mother and will love you profoundly, even when I am gone.
You are my miracle, my victory, my darling, darling child. Words cannot come close to describing the joy you bring me every day. You have mentioned to me in the last month that God didn't give me a child when I first wanted one because he was busy making you. I am glad that he took his time with you, because I think he really outdid himself.
I have enjoyed you, Four-Year-Old Evie. I can't wait to see what Five-Year-Old Evie does.
With all my love,
Mama
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