Dad, cookies and a book fairy

While cleaning out my closet, I stumbled upon a box my mom left me of old poems and stuff I’ve written over the years.  Most of the stuff was from my high school years…articles for the school newspaper, a drawing of a confederate soldier missing a finger, and this little book fairy.

  notice the date…March 1968.  I was seven years old.  I can’t be held responsible.  (Funny, I never got any better at drawing).

I found some funny poems, a letter I wrote to a never-was boyfriend…and the following ‘story’ written in May 1967.  I was six.

The story was written in crayon and was 3 pages long.  I won’t bother posting such said letter in its original form because I’d have to enlarge it for you to read it, so, I’ll do the next best thing.  I’ll re-type it exactly as I wrote it.  I guess you could say this is my first documented attempt at writing.

The sun was coming up when I herd Daddy go to work.  My daddy is in the army.  He has to trane other daddies to be like him.  My mommy calls him a patriat.  I don’t no what that meens but she sed it’s good.

I get to stay home with mommy and make cookies.  Daddy’s favrits are choclat chip.  Mommy likes suger cookies.  I like the same cookies as daddy.  I will make xtra cookies to share with daddy.

Making cookies is fun.  I got to crak an egg and put in the choclat chips, thin stir them all up with the other stuf mommy made.  I wantd to put them in the oven, but mommy sed it was to hot for me.

Wen they were dun, mommy let me eat one.  It was good.

I was happy wen daddy came home bcas daddy let me eat more cookies.  He gave me milk to dunk my cookies.  I luv my daddy.

Thank heavens my spelling and grammar improved over the years, even if my drawing didn’t.

Part of me feels embarrassed by these pieces, but then another part of me beams with pride.  Even at the age of 6 and 7, I loved books and writing.  The love has stayed with me for more than 40 years.

Mom and Dad, I know you’re up there looking down on me.  I just want to say ‘Thank You’ for feeding me the love for books, for listening to my made up stories of far away worlds and silliness.  Most of all, thank you for holding on to a piece of my childhood I thought was gone.  We all have to start somewhere.  My passion for reading and writing started with me being wrapped in the arms of love.

I love you and miss you both.

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