Letters to My Granddaughter

Grandma here. Well... grandma-to-be actually. On the day that I am writing this, you are technically my darling-to-be. But letters are time machines. (In fact all writing is-- that's part of its magic.) By the time you read this, we will be what it seems we always were: you, my darling, and me, your grandma.

You know something while you are reading this, something so obvious and simple it will be hard to understand there was ever a time that everyone didn't know. But we didn't. No kidding. We don't. No one knows it yet. Maybe you can whisper the secret back to me from the future.

The reason I must address your letters as dearest and darling girl is that no one knows your name. It's silly to say you don't have a name yet. You know your name. Isn't it funny to think that once Grandma and even Mommy and Daddy didn't know something so ordinary and beautiful?

At this very moment, while you are solving the mystery of making strong bones and lungs, we are preparing for the day you will be named. It's sort of like discovering a star or a planet or a rare flower. When you find something miraculous, you get to name it. Cool huh?

I have a bunch of names picked out: I like Wren and Cairo. Your dad is leaning toward Sofia (and you know how stubborn he can be, my little Sofia) and your mother originally wanted to name you in honor of the women in her family: Felicity Lelani Marie. Admittedly this made your dad and I feel a little left out. I have two perfectly beautiful names I'd be delighted to share: Gypsy and Lark. There are also some gorgeous names in our family but your parents want you to be recognized for the unique wonder that you are. So you won't be sharing names with your cousins Tristan or Meroe. I've thrown Medea and Nimue into the hat but their mythic counterparts may have associations your parents won't overlook. I know, Darling, that's a lot of big words to say: probably not.

When your dad was little I used to quote from a book that I had when I was a baby. What? Grandma was a baby? I know, it makes me laugh to think about it too.

Tell me, tell me what's your name? Pumpkin-noodle Snookerbane? When your Mom calls you to lunch, does she call you Honeybunch?

Goodnight for now, my little pumpkin-noodle snookerbane.