A 10-Year-Old’s Secret: The Mailbox Surprise That Brought Me to Tears
My 10-Year-Old Daughter Insisted on Checking Our Mailbox by Herself – Today I Checked It and What I Saw Left Me in Tears
I assumed it was a passing phase when my ten-year-old daughter developed an unusual obsession with checking the mailbox. However, what I found concealed in those letters brought me to tears and disclosed a truth that irrevocably altered our lives. And I am incredibly thrilled.
Hello Erin, a 40-year-old single mother, is incredibly devoted to her daughter Lily. Since her father’s death three years ago, her and I have been an extremely close pair. My world is Lily; she is vibrant, inquisitive, and full of life. Usually, we spend our evenings telling stories, laughing, and doing homework.
I get to spend a lot of time with her because I’m a freelance graphic designer that works from home. We’ve built a nice life for ourselves, albeit it’s not always simple.
Lily’s large, inquisitive eyes met mine one evening as we were finishing dinner. Suddenly, she said, “Mom, can I check the mailbox?” She had never previously expressed interest in our mail, so it seemed strange. Usually, she would be more anticipating dessert or her favorite TV show’s most recent episode.
Yes, honey. I handed it over and added, “Here’s the key.” With a joyful smile, Lily grabbed the key and ran outside. I watched her leave, supposing it was a passing fancy.
She requested again the following day. Almost jumping on her toes, she asked, “Mom, can I check the mail?”
“Go ahead, Lily,” I said, passing her the key once more. Like it was the best part of her day, she ran to the mailbox. This went on every night. After four days, it had become second nature.
She inquired, already reaching for the key, “Mom, is it okay if I check the mail again?”
“Of course,” I replied, attempting to conceal my interest. “You seem to really enjoy this, huh?”
She grinned and exclaimed, “Yep!” before bolting out the door.
I also started to observe further behavioral changes in her. Normally a free spirit, Lily had begun to become reticent. Her games, which usually involved plenty of laughter, had become more serious, and she was spending a lot of time in her room.
“Lily, you okay?” One afternoon, I discovered her sitting calmly in her room and gazing out the window. I questioned.
She answered, “Yeah, I’m fine,” but her tone was less upbeat than normal.
Her inquiries also grew more bizarre. I was putting her to bed one evening when she raised those large,
contemplative eyes to me.
“Mom, do you think people can talk through letters even if they don’t know each other well?” she inquired.
I answered, “Of course, sweetheart,” stroking a lock of hair off her brow. “People can form beautiful connections through letters.”
Thoughtfully nodding, she said nothing more. I caught her sneaking something into her backpack before school the following morning.
“What’s that, Lily?” Trying to sound casual, I asked.
She gave a brief smile and said, “Oh, it’s just for a school project,” before bolting out the door.
I was intrigued, but I didn’t want to ask too many questions. Still, I was troubled by her behavior. On the seventh day, I was at my breaking point. Since the mailbox was “a secret,” Lily was quite protective of it and wouldn’t let me open it, which by then had really frightened me.
“Lily, why won’t you let me check the mail?” As she was getting ready for school one morning, I questioned.
She said, “It’s a secret, Mom,” and raised her solemn gaze to me. “But it’s a good secret, I promise.”
“All right,” I answered, trying not to show my worry. “I trust you, but you have to promise me you’re not hiding anything dangerous.”
She gave a sincere nod. “Mom, I swear. Nothing negative about it.”
Feeling a mixture of shame and fear, I opened the mailbox after she went for school, expecting to see something unsettling, maybe a message from an unknown person or some upsetting letters.
Rather, what I witnessed brought me to tears.
There were multiple pieces of paper, neatly folded, each with Lily’s neat handwriting. When I opened the first one, I saw that it was a letter meant for our mail carrier, Mrs. Thompson.
Greetings, Mrs. Thompson
I hope all is well with you. I understand how devastated you must be to be without your daughter. I want you to know that you can talk to me whenever you need someone. I believe my mother when she says that letters may bring people together. Lily, I love you.
My vision became blurry as I read the touching words. I read more messages, all of them warm and heartfelt, sharing little stories from Lily’s day, making drawings, and offering consolation.
One more letter said:
Greetings, Mrs. Thompson
At school today, we studied butterflies. It’s true that they detect colors that humans cannot. That struck me as being really cool. I sketched one out for you. I wish it brought you joy.
Lily, I love you.
And even another:
Greetings, Mrs. Thompson
My mom and I made cookies yesterday. They came out looking fantastic! If only I could give you some. I hope your day went well.
Lily, I love you.
I discovered a letter from Mrs. Thompson among the others:
Greetings, Lily
I appreciate your kind letters. They make my days a little brighter. The toughest thing I’ve ever gone through has been losing my daughter, but it helps to know that someone as kind as you is concerned. I am appreciative of your friendship.
Greetings, Mrs. Thompson.
I took a seat on the porch steps and held the letters close to my heart. My heart grew heavy with both pride and grief. Lily had felt Mrs. Thompson’s suffering and had tried to help her in the only way she knew how: with words of kindness and sympathy.
I smiled and gave Lily the key when she asked to check the mailbox that evening. “You know, Lily, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know.”
She gave me a startled yet appreciative glance. “Thanks, Mom.”
I wanted to share in this lovely bond she was forging, so I followed her as she ran out to the mailbox. She hesitated before agreeing. We discovered another letter from Mrs. Thompson together, and Lily read it out loud with beaming eyes.
Greetings, Lily
You did a really good job drawing the butterfly! My day was made. I appreciate you telling me about your cookies. It brought back memories of baking with my kid. Your heart is very compassionate.
Mrs. Thompson, your buddy.
Lily smiled at me. “Mom, I think Mrs. Thompson likes my letters.”
My response was, “She does, sweetheart,” and I gave her a strong hug.
I supported Lily’s correspondence with Mrs. Thompson in the days that followed. One afternoon, we even asked her to stay for tea. Lily was clearly scared when Mrs. Thompson arrived, but as soon as she was hugged warmly by her, Lily calmed down.
“Erin, I appreciate you inviting me. It’s significant,” Mrs. Thompson remarked, her voice brimming with passion.
Naturally, Mrs. Thompson. We’re glad to have you here,” I answered.
Lily joyfully presented Mrs. Thompson with the cookies she had cooked. “I made these just for you!”
Grinning, Mrs. Thompson took a bite. “Lily, these are so delicious. You truly are talented.”
The three of us conversed and laughed throughout the afternoon, exchanging tales and spending time together. It was a straightforward yet meaningful moment of connection.
“Lily, do you want to show Mrs. Thompson your butterfly drawing?” I recommended.
With excitement, Lily nodded and hurried to get her drawing. Upon her return, Mrs. Thompson gazed at the vibrant butterfly with tears welling up in her eyes.
Lily, it’s really lovely. I’m grateful,” she uttered gently.
Lily smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
As I watched Lily and Mrs. Thompson converse and have fun, it dawned on me just how much a small gesture of kindness might mean. It served as a reminder that we have the ability to significantly impact someone’s life even with the tiniest of deeds.
I was sitting on the porch with Lily later that evening when she asked me, “Mom, do you think we’ll always be friends with Mrs. Thompson?”
“I believe so, Lily. You’ve been very loving and caring to her. That’s what keeps friendships strong,” I retorted.
Lily grinned, pleased. “I’m happy. I enjoy bringing joy to others.”
“Lily, you possess a unique gift. I hugged her tightly and murmured, “Never forget that.
I was filled with deep thankfulness as the sun sank, coloring the sky in hues of pink and orange.
I learned a great lesson from Lily: we can impact each other’s lives and create lasting bonds even in the most unlikely circumstances. And occasionally, the most exquisite relationships can be forged by the most basic deeds of kindness.
