My letter from the house at 212

The other day I was looking through some pictures and came across this scanned photo of a letter I wrote to my aunt Mollie when I was 9 years old. It still makes me laugh every time I read it. Just in case you can't make it out due to my awesome 9 year old penmanship, I retyped it below. So scroll down, read and then I'll break it down in today's vernacular.

Dear Mollie and Everybody,
I am getting this off a little late, But I hope everybody is fine. I had a nice time. Joe got here about 3:30 and left Monday. I don't have much to say because I have to get to sleep. But Becky is talking on the phone and Frank is in the Bathroom. I guess I better get to sleep. From all of us, Love Lisa


First of all, why did I feel the need to insult my aunt Nina and my uncle Jay by calling them everybody? Could I not write out their names at the lazy age of 9? The sentence about Joe coming to town was regarding my teenaged cousin coming for a short visit. The one thing I did notice....and am pretty proud of....is my spelling was A+ but my use of capitalization needed some work. And more importantly, why did I feel the need to tell them about Frank's bodily functions and Becky's phone conversation? I must've been stretching the letter due to lack of interesting content. I'm pretty sure the talk about my need for sleep was a way to keep the letter short and sweet. And don't even get me started on the stationary with scary freak clown playing with the lovable lion. That's just weird.

I'd bet they laughed out loud when they read it. I know I would've. But what really gets me is, they kept my silly letter. I didn't know it until they'd passed away and we were cleaning out the house. That's when I found it. All of us found stuff we'd sent them over the years, carefully tucked away in the little closet under the stairs. And what a grand place that little closet was. Full of puzzles and letters and keepsakes and cashmere coats, as well as the wonderful scent that helped make it what it was. Filled with the love of a family, in a house called 212.