Last Day as a Six-Year-Old

Dear Evie,

As I have done every June 5 since 2013, I have just left you sleeping in your room while I write you a letter about how another year of your childhood as gone by in a flash, about how much you have changed, how much you have learned, and how much is still the same. 

You have certainly learned plenty this year.  You have become an avid reader, and you have even earned your way into the gifted program at school through your reading abilities.  You are not afraid to try new words, to ask questions about what you've read, or to try writing your own stories.  In fact, you are captivated by the art of story telling so much that even when we are in a place that offers endless entertainment (like Disneyland), you ask me or Daddy to tell you a story.  You want to make up stories in the car, you want to act out stories of things that have happened or things you wish would happen.  This penchant for playing parts in different stories is proving quite an asset to you as you got cast as Mrs. Gloop in your summer production of Willy Wonka - you have pointed out several times that you are the only little kid on whom the honor of a speaking role was bestowed.

As a theatre kid myself, I know that being able to act means being able to put yourself in the place of someone else.  This is a skill that I wish more people were able to master as it increases sympathy and empathy for other, real people in life.  And you certainly have the gift of being able to see something from someone else's perspective and respond accordingly.  You are kind, you are generous, you feel things deeply, you love others deeply.  Though I hate the circumstances, I love that you are so concerned about any person or animal we pass on the street who seems to not have a home to go to.  I love that you try to figure out why people do what they do or say what they say, not in a place of judgment but in a place of wanting to understand them.

This year in school you learned a difficult lesson, beyond academics.  You learned that sometimes people lie and sometimes they betray your trust.  I'm sorry such a lesson had to come at such a young age, but I am impressed at how quickly you were able to draw conclusions about which kids are trustworthy and would make good friends.  I am proud that you know the values that really matter when it comes to choosing friends, and I know that that skill will lead you to many other good choices and years of successful friendships.

I am also proud of your love for God.  You are never afraid to speak about God or to wonder why God would have made something so.  You have an understanding of God's love that is deeper than many adults, I think, and you have a grateful heart. 

Many people see the "old soul" in you.  You demonstrated that again tonight when you decided to write your future self a letter on the eve of your 7th birthday.  I am always astonished at how much you seem to sense your place in time.  You ask to hear stories of your great-great-grandparents, but you also talk about what you will do with your own grandchildren, and you even said a few weeks ago that you didn't want to grow up because you enjoy being a child and childhood is over too quickly. 

When I found out I was pregnant with you, I sang to you every day a song called "Puppet on a String" with lyrics that indicate that the singer is so taken with the subject of the song that he/she becomes "a puppet on a string, and you can do most anything with me".  I sang that song every day I was pregnant with you all the way through when you were about 4 years old and began to be too big to be rocked to sleep, but I still sing it sometimes.  Tonight, you sang it with me and I held back tears as best I could.  You certainly do have me wrapped around your finger, a puppet on a string.  There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you and I hope you will always know you have a safe, loving place in me. 

How I got so lucky as to be your mother, I'll never know, because I certainly couldn't have done anything to earn the right to be a mother to someone as wonderful as you.  It could only be God's grace.  You are a radiant light, a source of joy, and my greatest treasure. 

Love forever,
Mama