Category: Letters

Five Golden Rings

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Christmas, Letters to GrammaLeave a comment

Dear Gramma,

The other day when my little ones were lining up to go to lunch, I asked if they wanted to sing a Christmas song on the way to the cafeteria.  We sang Jingle Bells and then one of my little ones asked if we could sing “that one about the 12 things”.

My voice caught in my throat and not a single word cracked out.

I stood thinking about singing The 12 Days of Christmas at your house and always hoping, wishing, crossing my fingers that I would get the card that said “Five Golden Rings”.  It was my favorite line.  I could only imagine enough golden rings to slide on all the fingers of one hand.  I remember you singing that line in your best warbling Baptist church vibrato.  Your singing voice always made me giggle.

As I stood there watching my little ones pull their jackets on and grab their lunch boxes, I spun the gold ring on my right hand, the one my mom gave me from your trip to Greece together.  It is carved with the Greek symbol for eternity.  We walked to lunch singing and when we got to the part about the golden rings, I sang through the lump in my throat my voice trembling each time until I got to those four calling birds.

Christmas is a hard time to be apart from you.  The tree, the music, the decorations, the food-it all reminds me of you.  Those memories are so sweet.  And I’m thankful for all of them.  I just wish you were here to make more.

But then I turn the ring on my finger and remember that this season, when I am singing of the Christ come to Earth, you are singing with Him for eternity, singing in your best Baptist church vibrato.

I can’t think of a sound I’d like to hear more.

Come sing to me in my dreams, Gramma.  Come sing to me about the Christ come to Earth.  Sing to me about eternity.  Sing to me about Heaven where five golden rings are a mere drop in the bucket.

Love,

Alicia

Dear 16 Year Old Me,

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters2 Comments

Dear 16 Year Old Me,

If I had the ability to travel back in time, here are some things I’d tell you:

  • Don’t worry about the fact that you are flat chested.  This actually turns out to be a good thing later in life.  No, really.
  • Being tall is way better than you think.
  • A magical electronic device called the flat iron will take care of that whole nest of curls you fight every morning.
  • Your “summer boyfriend” will become your best friend, your husband, the love of your life.  You are at the beginning of a wonderful love story.
  • Call your Grandma.  You’ll be glad you did.
  • The top of the old water tower outside of Tijuaua will become one of your favorite places of all time.  Take a picture of the view.  You’ll wish you could remember it in sharper detail when you’re older.
  • You are stronger than you think, but it’s okay to let your guard down once in a while.
  • You will be an athlete.  It’s okay that you don’t believe me.  Sometimes I don’t believe it either.
  • Your life will have some moments like this:

(Sorry, but birds hate you.  Just accept the fact that they poop on you now and again.)

  • But most of your life will be like this:

You are at the start of a great life filled with friends, love, laughter, and adventure.  Hang on tight because life is fast and it’s never dull.

Love,

33 Year Old Me

P.S.-Be nicer to your little brother.  He turns out to be a pretty decent guy.

Little Star Girl

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters, Teacher TalesLeave a comment

Dear Little One,

You are amazing.

Today you told the class a story of a little boy and a little girl who put on magical star-shaped glasses.  When they put the glasses on, they became twinkle stars in the sky.  Their mothers spent the day looking for them everywhere, but their children were nowhere to be found.  That night the mothers looked into the sky and wished on a star that their children would return home.  When the mothers made the wish, the little boy and girl became shooting stars.  The fell back to Earth and landed in the arms of their mothers.

Little one, I am amazed at your ability to invent such a creative, magical, poignant story.  As I click away at my own story this month, I am inspired by you.

I hope you heard me, really heard me, when I told you what an amazing storyteller you are.  Just in case you didn’t, I’m going to tell you again tomorrow.  And the next day.  And the next day.  And all the days after that.

And tonight when I look up at the stars and think about things I’m thankful for, you are going to be at the top of my list, Little Star Girl.

Love you bunches,

Mrs. McCauley

Some Kid

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters, Teacher TalesLeave a comment

Dear Little One,

Yesterday I finished reading “Charlotte’s Web” to you.  The sad part of the book was approaching and I wrestled the lump in my throat until it sat low where it could not possibly escape.  It matters little that I read this book every year, E.B. White’s writing gets me every single time.  I loved this book as a kid and, if it’s possible, I love it even more as an adult.

I was doing a fine job of keeping that lump down and my eyes were only watering a little bit as I read about Wilbur leaving Charlotte to die alone.  Hang on a sec, I just need to stop typing and get a tissue.  Ahem. Anyway, I was doing a decent job of keeping things under control until I heard a sob from your direction.  I looked over and saw tears dribbling from your brown eyes, down your cheeks, and onto your desk.  In a quivering voice you said, “It’s just so sad, Mrs. McCauley, it’s just so sad.”  I could not agree more, Little One.  You got up to get a tissue and several girls followed, dabbing at their eyes.  The little boys wiped their eyes on shirtsleeves and for a minute we just sat there in our sadness.  I waited, pushing that lump back down, brushing my tears away with my fingertips.  I waited until we were all done blowing our noses and wiping our eyes.  And then I read on until we reached the happy end when the spiderlings hatch and life renews itself.  We talked about the book and moved on with our afternoon, but you were too sad to sing, too sad to do math, too sad to read any other books.  You put your head down and I rubbed your back when I walked by your desk.  Later you took out your notebook and drew spider webs.

Today we watched the movie Charlotte’s Web.  Before we watched it, we talked about how it’s okay to cry when you’re sad.  You and some of the others pulled out wads of tissue before the movie began.  And just in case I needed it, you stuffed a tissue in my hand, too.  The movie made us laugh and cry.  And it was good.  During the movie, you wrote in your notebook.  You wrote about how much you love Charlotte.  You drew her dangling from her web and told me about how she still lives in your heart.

Little One, I love that you wear your heart on your sleeve.  I love that you are moved by the written word.  I love that you work your sadness out with a pencil and paper.  To paraphrase a certain spider, you are some kid.  Long after you leave first grade, long after you graduate high school, long after you raise children of your own, I will remember this day because you, Little One, will still live in my heart.

Love,

Mrs. McCauley

Something to Remember

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters, Teacher Tales3 Comments

Dear Little One,

You were the best part of my day.  You finished your work and  sprawled on the rug with your notebook.  Last year’s Easter dress ballooned around you and one of your silver glittery ballet shoes slipped off your foot as you moved onto your stomach to write.  I watched you write, sweet little princess.  Your eyebrows gathered together, your mouth sounded out each word carefully.  Other kids plopped on the rug with their notebooks, but you didn’t even notice.  I wondered what it was that had captured your attention so dramatically.  As I moved around the room, my eyes kept flicking over to you.  You never took your gaze off the page.

It came time for Author’s Chair.  To my delight you sat at the rug, notebook in the crook of your lap, and raised your hand.  Anticipation tingled in my veins.  You began to read about missing your granddad.  You wrote about wishing he was still here with you.  My heart lurched because I know what it means to miss someone with that kind of urgency.  Oh, yes, I know it like I know the flecks of gold in Terry’s eyes, like I know the sound of my mother’s voice.

Your last line cut deep.  “I wish I had something to remember him by.”  You blinked back tears and I was blinking them back right along with you.  I think we all were. When you finished, a flurry of hands shot up, not to be the next reader, but to share about losing a loved one.  You gave us that moment and for that I’m grateful.

I know you wish you had something to remember your Granddad by, something to hold in your hands or rub against your cheek.  I wish I could give that something to you.  But, Little One, let me just say that you created something to remember him by today.

Love,

Mrs. McCauley