May 10, 1999

My Dear Bridie,

My eldest sister called today. She had heard that my son and his wife had brought you to stay with me during his eccentric travels. First she insulted Howell and Sophie for leaving their child with me, then she proceeded to offer her help with you. I called her some nasty things and we both hung up. You wont stop screaming now.  I don’t know what to do. The caring of young children is not an area of my expertise. I hate seeing you in such a distressed state. ‘Sure wish I had some help.

~*~

December 5th, 2001

My Dear Bridie,

It was cold today, but I’ve felt so warm inside. I suppose it’s the blazing fire in the den, and you — wrapped snuggly in a blanket — following me around wherever I go. I was so busy most of the day, but the you asked me to play with you. You’re eyes are so big, bright and blue. How could I say no? So we played. Quietly, because I knew you were tired and so am I, but also for a long time, because today felt special somehow, and neither of us felt like going to bed. Your hot cocoa lies on the desk now, unfinished next to mine. I scarcely dare to write this, with you in my lap, fast asleep. Once already, you awoke, asking sleepily what I was doing.

‘Writing’ I say quietly, ‘to  you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. When you’re older.’

‘how come?’

I pat your head, and your eyes drift close. ‘I’m not sure,’ I admit. Before I can come to a proper conclusion you’re asleep again.

~*~

April 10 2003

My Dear Bridie,

For your birthday this year I bought you a bicycle. You were more that ecstatic to try, but insisted on doing it yourself. That is, until you got on the bike. As soon as your feet left the ground you called for me to help you. I did, and after that you wouldn’t let me let go. I’m going to have to let go eventually, otherwise you’ll never learn how to do it on your own. Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow.

~*~

December 20th 2003

My Dear Bridie,

This morning my sisters arrived. Obviously overwhelmed with the amount of new ladies you turned to me and asked, not at all quietly: “When can we bring the grouchy old hags back?”
From here on forward I’m going to have to watch what I say.

~*~

December 25th 2003

My Dear Bridie,

My niece, Pamela came today to spend Christmas day with us. She brought you a sweater and candy. I must admit that I was extremely surprised to find that you tossed the candy aside and excitedly pulled the sweater over your head. I don’t know many other children, but I’m quite sure that they would not like to get a sweater for christmas. You’re extra special, Bridie. I love you that way.

~*~

April 25th 2005

My Dear Bridie,

Today you came home with a puppy. “It followed me home.” You said, holding up the rope tied around it’s neck. It was not a pretty thing. Small, scruffy, and covered in many different colors. Mrs. Post said you should call her Dot. You insisted that was not a proper name for a dog. Much too plain, you said, for a special one like this. Help me think of another one. I had recently read a book about such a character, and suggested you call her Turandot. I’m glad you liked it.

~*~

June 5th 2005

My Dear Bridie,

Mrs. Stubbing’s great nephew moved in with her this week. She called me this morning and explained–very kindly, mind you– that yesterday he came home with a black eye. With a very angelic look on your face you explained that “Basil hates dogs, and I hate people who hate dogs.” I’m sure there’s more behind this.

~*~

June 6th 2005

My Dear Bridie,

I’m going to have to keep you and that Stubbings boy apart. I fear that if I don’t, you and Basil may kill each other before the summer is up. It’s a pity though–he seems a decent fellow. I really do with you would make friends. But then, I suppose that is simply not your way.

~*~

June 10th, 2005

My Dear Bridie,

Mrs. Stubbings was called on urgent business to the city, so she asked if Basil could stay with us for a while. I agreed, as Basil has no where else to go. I also hope you two might learn to get along. Perhaps some time forced in each other’s company will spark some friendship? Sadly, this is a very large mansion, and as soon as Basil came to the door you ran and hid. I was forced to entertain Basil by myself, so we took out checkers. We had lots of fun, actually. Basil is very good at checkers. However, he keeps glancing around nastily, as though you might jump out soon enough. I do wish you’d join us.

~*~

June 21 2005

My Dear Bridie,

Mrs. Swann’s boy came to stay for a while. You looked a little wary of him at first, probably thinking he would be much like Basil. You soon found he was of mild temper, and you, him and Darcy had a jolly good time. I seem to have a problem, however. Even now I can not recall his name.

~*~

September 2 2010

My Dear Bridie,

You left today. The house seems so very bare without your presence. My mind doesn’t seem to let me rest and I sat in my study for a very long time doing nothing at all. Turandot sat at my feet and refused to leave me. We will miss you dearly, my little bird, and hope to see you again soon. I love you very, very much, my dear. Never forget that. 

~*~

November 4, 2010

My Dear Bridie,

I just received news of Pamela’s passing. These are sad times for us all. The tragedy of her death is only made more poignant by your absence. If only you were here we may comfort one another. I can only imagine your pain.
My sisters have surrounded me with such love that I am taken aback. Perhaps they are only tenderhearted copies. But yet I hear the twins cackling. Is it not odd, but sad, how sometimes it takes the worst and most desperate of times to bring out the best in people? I wonder if it goes also the other way around. Can the most perfect of moments bring out the best in people?