There was a time when my 10-year-old daughter became strangely obsessed with checking the mailbox. I thought it was just a phase. But what I found in those letters made me cry and told me a secret that would change our lives forever. I’m so happy right now
Hey I’m Erin, and I’m a 40-year-old single mom who loves her daughter Lily very much. Since her dad died three years ago, we’ve been very close. Lily makes my world bright, interesting, and full of life. We normally laugh, do our homework, and tell stories in the evenings.
I can spend a lot of time with her because I work from home as a graphic artist. We’ve made a good life for ourselves, even though it’s not always easy.
When dinner was over one night, Lily looked at me with those big, interested eyes. She asked her mother out of the blue, “Mom, can I check the mailbox?” She had never been interested in our mail before, so this was strange. It’s more likely that she’d be excited about dinner or the newest episode of her favorite TV show.
“Okay, honey. I gave them the key and said, “Here it is.” Lily smiled happily as she grabbed the key and ran outside. I thought it was just a whim as I watched her leave.
She asked again the next day. She asked her mom, “Mom, can I check the mail?” and was almost jumping for joy.
I told Lily, “Go ahead,” and gave her the key again. As if it were the most exciting thing in the world, she ran to the mailbox. This went on every night. It was just like any other day by the fourth.
She asked, “Mom, is it okay if I check the mail again?” as she reached for the key.
“Of course,” I said, trying not to show how interested I was. “You seem to really enjoy this, huh?”
She smiled and said, “Yep!” before running out the door.
I began to notice other changes in the way she would act as well. Lily, who was generally very open, began to act private. She was spending more time alone in her room and wasn’t laughing as much. The games she used to play with her friends were now more serious.
“Lily, you okay?” One afternoon, I found her sitting still in her room and looking out the window. I asked her.
She said, “Yeah, I’m fine,” but her voice wasn’t as happy as normal.
It also got weird when she asked questions. As I put her to bed one night, she looked up at me with those big, serious eyes.
“Mom, do you think people can talk through letters even if they don’t know each other well?” she asked me.
I responded, “Of course, sweetheart,” and brushed a hair off her forehead. “People can form beautiful connections through letters.”
She gave a serious nod but didn’t say anything else. I saw her putting something in her backpack before school the next morning.
“What’s that, Lily?” I tried to sound casual when I asked.
As she ran out the door, she quickly smiled and said, “Oh, it’s just for a school project.”
Even though I was interested, I didn’t want to pry. Still, the way she behaved made me think a lot. I gave up on the seventh day. Due to “a secret,” Lily was very protective of the mailbox and wouldn’t let me open it. This scared me a lot at the time.
“Lily, why won’t you let me check the mail?” I asked her one morning as she got ready for school.
She looked at me with serious eyes and said, “It’s a secret, Mom.” “But it’s a good secret, I promise.”
I said, “Okay,” trying to hide my worry. “I trust you, but you have to promise me you’re not hiding anything dangerous.”
She gave a serious nod. “I promise, Mom.” It’s not a bad thing.
When she left for school, I opened the mailbox with a mix of fear and guilt, expecting to find something scary, like a note from a stranger or some upsetting letters.
What I saw, though, made me cry.
There were several neatly folded pieces of paper with Lily’s neat handwriting on them all. As I opened the first one, I saw that it was a letter to our mail carrier, Mrs. Thompson.
Thank you, Mrs. Thompson
I hope all is well with you. I know it’s hard for you to be without your daughter. Please know that I’m available if you need to talk. I agree with my mom that letters are a good way to make friends. Lily, love you.
The tears made it hard for me to see as I read the touching words. I kept reading letters to Lily. Each one was filled with kindness and warmth, telling little stories from her day, drawing pictures, and giving comfort.
In another letter, it said:
Thank you, Mrs. Thompson
We learned about bugs today at school. They can see colors that we can’t. That looked cool to me. I drew you a picture of one. I hope it makes you laugh.
Lily, love you.
One more:
Thank you, Mrs. Thompson
Yesterday, my mom and I baked cookies. They were really good! I wish I had some to give you. I hope today was great for you.
Lily, love you.
This is the letter I found from Mrs. Thompson:
Hi Lily,
Thank you for writing such nice things. They make my day a little better. I’ve never been through anything worse than losing my daughter. But knowing that kind people like you care makes it a little easier. I’m thankful for our friendship.
Thank you, Mrs. Thompson.
I sat down on the steps of the porch and held the letters close to my chest. My heart swelled with happiness and sadness. Lily could feel Mrs. Thompson’s pain and reached out to her in the only way she knew how: with kind words and a cared heart.
In the evening, Lily asked to check the mailbox. I smiled and gave her the key. “You know, Lily, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know.”
She looked at me with awe and happiness in her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
I ran after her as she ran to the mailbox because I wanted to be a part of this beautiful link she was making. She agreed after some thought. We found another letter from Mrs. Thompson together, and Lily read it out loud with tears in her eyes.
Hi Lily,
The butterfly you drew is very nice. It made my day better. Thanks for telling me about your cookies. It made me think of the times I baked with my daughter. You’re really nice.
Mrs. Thompson is your friend.
Lily smiled at me. “Mom, I think Mrs. Thompson likes my letters.”
I gave her a tight hug and said, “She does, sweetheart.”
I urged Lily to write to Mrs. Thompson in the days that followed. We even asked her to come over for tea one day. I could tell Lily was scared when she got there because her eyes lit up, but she quickly calmed down when Mrs. Thompson gave her a big hug.
“Erin, thanks for inviting me. “It means a lot,” Mrs. Thompson said with tears in her eyes.
“Of course, Mrs. Thompson. “We’re glad to have you,” I told them.
Lily held out the cookies she had made with pride and gave them to Mrs. Thompson. “I made these just for you!”
What did Mrs. Thompson do? She smiled and ate. “These taste great, Lily.” You really have a gift.”
During the afternoon, we three talked, laughed, and shared stories while having fun with each other. It was a simple but meaningful moment of coming together.
“Lily, do you want to show Mrs. Thompson your butterfly drawing?” I told you.
Lily happily agreed and ran to get her drawing. When she got back, Mrs. Thompson looked at the bright butterfly and her eyes filled with tears.
“Lily, it’s beautiful. “Thank you,” she said in a low voice.
Lily smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
I learned how important a small act of kindness could be by seeing Lily and Mrs. Thompson talk and laugh. And it reminded me that even the smallest things we do can have a big effect on other people’s lives.
Evening came, and Lily and I were sitting on the porch. She asked me, “Mom, do you think we’ll always be friends with Mrs. Thompson?”
“Yes, Lily. I think so.” You’ve been so nice and loving to her. “That’s what keeps friendships going,” I answered.
Lily smiled and was happy. “Pleased. “I enjoy making others happy.”
“Lily, you have a unique gift. “Don’t forget that,” I told her as I hugged her.
It made me feel very thankful as the sun went down and turned the sky pink and orange.
Lily taught me an important lesson: we can connect with each other and make a difference in each other’s lives in ways we might not expect. Also, small acts of kindness can sometimes lead to the strongest ties.