Artwork for Julian and Benjamin
Julian, I’m starting my letter to you on this day, your birthday, when you’re turning four years old! That’s an important milestone; you’ll be able to remember many things about being four when you are grown up. I’ll tell you about a few memories from my childhood.
One of my favorite memories from being almost four years old - three years, 10 months and 25 days - is the memory of my baby sister coming home from the hospital where she had come out from inside of my mamma! Do you remember when your baby brother came home from the hospital? You were almost four years old, too, when your baby came out of your mama. You were three years, 10 months and zero days old. It is so great that both you and Nonna got our babies when we were three years and 10 months old!
I remember when my mother had our baby inside of her — when she was pregnant. When I put my hand on my mamma’s round belly and talked to the baby inside, I said, “Please be a baby sister.” And then one day, my mamma and papa were climbing the long, long flights of stairs to our apartment and bundled in my mamma’s arms was a tiny baby. My big brother, your great-uncle, Donald, and I were standing at the top of the stairs, waiting. My brother had turned six years old only two days before our baby was born!
Our mamma put our baby on her bed, unwrapped her and said, “Here is your baby sister. Her name is Karen Jo.” Karen had a bright pink bumpy sweater on. It was as pink as her tiny face. I was so happy; there was my new baby — a sister! As the days went by, I remember watching my baby sister sleep in her white wicker bassinet.
When my baby sister, Karen, was born I lived in Germany — just like you! We lived in Kaiserslautern, Germany. Kaiserslautern is about 407 miles – or 655 kilometers - away from your city of Berlin. Our apartment building was next to a big forest. It’s called the Palatinate Forest. The forest was a short walk away from where we played outside. My papa did not want us to walk to the forest. He didn’t want us to go into the forest because he thought it was dangerous. He told us why he thought it was dangerous, but the things he said did not make sense to me. I thought he meant there were witches in the forest. My mamma read fairy tales to me and I knew what witches were and I knew that they sometimes lived inside forests.
My brother and I played with other children outside. The grownups always let the children play outside by themselves. My mamma was upstairs with Baby Karen and my papa was at work. It was easy to wander around outside. I remember . . . creeping . . . into the forest! It was quiet and cool, and it smelled like the moss and the damp earth. It was dappled green above and soft and brown where we walked. Suddenly there was a loud crack and rustling sounds! I ran and ran — out of the forest – as fast as I could! “The witches,” I cried! “The witches! The witches!” I ran as hard as I could and straight up the stairs and into my mamma’s arms. I sat on her lap and cried and cried. “The witches,” I told my mamma. She listened and held me. (Fairy tale witches are not real. The witches I am telling you about are from my imagination! I imagined those “witches.” I imagined them so well that I felt like they were real – but they are not!)
Soon my baby sister was two years old! She was blowing out the candles on her birthday cake. I remember she didn’t know how to do it very well. She didn’t know how to make an “O” with her mouth (like Benjamin does). Instead, she made a funny little shape that did not blow air onto the candles. I laughed! I had to help her!
Karen had a long ponytail that swept around in big curls. It was the color of the chestnuts and very pretty. Our mamma did not want to cut it but washing Karen’s long hair made Karen cry. Finally, our mamma had to cut Karen’s hair. She was three years old. We weren’t in Germany anymore. We were in the middle of Kansas in the United States. Now we lived next to a prairie with tall yellow grass instead of a forest with tall green trees. It was hot next to the prairie. Under our big leafy maple trees, your great-uncle and your great-aunt and your nonna peeled their clothes off and hopped into big tin tubs of cool water to splash around.
The grassy prairie is where beautiful bugs live. It’s where giant grasshoppers live — giant for a grasshopper would be about as big as your thumb. They jumped around everywhere and into our big yard. I learned how to be a very stealthy grasshopper-catcher! I would see a nice big one and slowly, slowly, slowly and so quietly sneak up on it and quickly, with my pincer fingers – grab it right around the thorax! I always gave them a cozy jar with soft green grass to enjoy. It always ended badly though. The grasshoppers always died because although they had grass, they couldn’t hop. They couldn’t live like that. It made me too sad so I stopped catching grasshoppers. When I grew up and became a teacher, I told the children it’s okay to catch bugs to observe them for an hour but then I asked the children to put them back in their environment so that they could thrive and be bugs.
I have lots of memories. Memories are fun. What are some memories you have?
I made this painting for you that shows me when I was almost four, standing with my mamma who has newborn Baby Karen on her lap. I think you may be able to see how happy and proud I felt!
We can’t wait to hug you! We also cannot wait to meet your baby, Benjamin. Your mamma sends us videos and pictures of both of you and those help us feel a little better. Talking to you every week on our video calls also helps so much!