Letters to You

Dear Mom,

I miss you. I want you to come back. I hope you can come back early so I can see you. I really miss you Mom, because I love you.

I hope you are having a good trip on your plane and everything. I miss you Mom.

Love,

Jaedon


Dear Mom,

This is what I’ve been doing this week. I’ve been hanging out with Uncle Chris, watching Trin’s baseball games, and I’ve been playing baseball games. My baseball games are fun, because my dad gets to see them. I’ve been hitting good, and sometimes I strike out, but it’s okay, and I miss you Mom. And I was catcher. It was fun.

Love,

Jaedon


P.S. Mom, what is the word sarcastic? Just kidding. Dad already told me that this weekend. Sarcastic is just joking, but it’s not funny. No, wait, just kidding. hyuck hyuck hyuck.




Dear Mom,

I really miss you. I can’t wait until we see each other again. I hope you have a good time in Poland.

I wish you could have been at my baseball game with Chris. It was a really awesome game. It was the best game I ever had. I got to play pitcher and catcher. I walked everybody, but I got them all out from passed balls at home plate. When I was catcher, MacGuire threw an inside, high ball, and I jumped and I caught it. I’m writing a picture book about my game.

Dad got a good price for a catcher’s helmet and chest guard. It will also help Jaedon with catching the ball when Dad throws a hard one at him, because he wouldn’t get hurt.

What is the weather like over there? Is it cold? It was really hot over here over the past couple days. Do you like the people over there? Are they nice to you? Dad told me that you’re going to a really sad place, Auschwitz. I heard of places like that in the book “Number the Stars” That story made me sad. I hope you don’t get too sad.

I love you, Mom

Love,

Trinity



Carol,

I have been full of silence, and full of obligation. Both have been a joyful yoke to carry, but they have been heavier without you. The breeze has been so prevalent here that I swear I can smell the ocean, and as it blows steadily east, across our vast country, I hope it blows all of my unspoken I love you’s to you, over the Atlantic and those remote ice-mountains of Greenland. Let this breeze catch up to your train, and flirt with the curve of your nose, while armed guards from Slovakia grunt for your passport. And let this breeze contain the twice daily waterings of our hanging petunias, oregano and basil, and the goodnight kisses on the musky brows of our sons. Let these be the incense to guide you back home.

Back here has had plenty of baseball, but I was still (mistakenly) doubtful about missing the first half of Trinity’s game for the ‘kindergarteners on parade’ mock Summer Olympics. As it turned out, there were 400 kids. Parents nearly filled the entire stadium. And once the Olympic theme played over the loudspeakers, and as each country of tennis-shoed children made their procession on the track in front of us, my emotions leapt to my throat. That processional, that music, all those little kids, and the cheering.

And the cheering. An entire stadium shouting joy and approval to the participants, and all of the kids on the other side of the track cheering the way for each of the runners.

In the first heat, a kindergartener, in the 50m dash, ran his legs out from under him and flopped onto the ground, scraping his knees, wincing in pain, and the crowd, and the crowd, and the boy rose to his feet, and his face, the determination on his face as he ran, alone on the track the rest of the way, and the crowd, and the crowd-

And that is basically how it was for the rest of the evening. Character and courage being born, innocence preserved, and the joy of just running, and the crowd, the crowd, as Jaedon trudged around the last corner of the 400 meter dash, but when reaching the crowd, behold the crowd, and the shine returning to his face, and the speed, what speed!returned to his legs for the rest of the race, as the crowd, the crowd and the female announcer’s voice, a seasoned teacher with a self-aware humorous tone in that disembodied, god-like Francis-McDormand-from-Fargo voice, exclaiming “Come on! All the way! You can do it!”

And I remember when I was in grade school, the announcer on the television, in disbelief, in utter joy, asking a question that I am finally able to answer, “Do you believe in miracles?”

Yes.

Love,

Jim


P.S. Sorry for calling Lynn baby over the phone. She really sounded like you.