Dear Evy

Dearest Evy,

You are very little now, Evy, so this letter won’t mean much to you today. But I’m writing anyway, in hopes that one day you will find this letter and learn all about how you changed the world before you turned three.

Evy, this is a thank you letter. I am writing to say Thank You, Evy.

Evy, I am a writer, and I love my readers very, very much. I call them Monkees because they are as serious about love as a bunch of Monks . . . but they are also quite goofy, Evy. Like a bunch of Monkees. And so each morning, I like to wake up very early and write to my Monkees. I try to remind them each day that Life is Magical and that We Belong to Each Other. Evy, my precious Monkees have been reading my reminders for two years, but nothing has ever convinced them that Life is Magical and that We Belong To Each Other like looking at your smile did.

Evy, my friends read about your family’s fight to recover from cancer last week. One of your mama’s friend’s, Andrea, decided to tell the Monkees about you, because she thought we would fall in love with you and magic would happen. Andrea thought right.

Evy, here is some of the magic you and your mama and daddy and beautiful sister, Stella have inspired.

Evy, your new friends from all over the country have been donating money to help send you to camp. There are Monkees who are searching for nice places for your family to live during your stay, and pledging money to spoil you and Stella this Christmas. There is a t-shirt company designing Monkee shirts and bags and kids clothes and planning to give the proceeds to you. One Monkee is at home dreaming of starting a program called “Kids Care.” Kids Care’s mission will be to teach children that they belong to each other, too. . . and its first project will be sending you and Stella homemade cards in the mail. Because who doesn’t love to get mail, Evy? You know what else, Evy? A lot of Monkees are artists. They have these gifts…which mean they love to do one special thing . . . like painting or knitting or designing. Some of these Monkees have even used their gifts to create businesses. And many Monkees decided that since gifts are made for giving, they wanted to give their gifts to you. So Evy, many, many Monkees have pledged beautiful gifts for an online auction we’ll hold next month.

Evy, two of your new Monkee friends, Lou and Josie, met for lunch at your mama’s favorite restaurant last week. They decided to open an account there to make your hospital stays a little yummier. The owner of the restaurant recognized your family’s name and asked how Lou and Josie knew you. The Monkees tried to explain, Evy. They said, “Well, we’ve never really met Jill and Brian, but they’re new Monkees and we want to help them.” But that didn’t sound right, Evy. Because Lou didn’t feel like she was helping you…she felt like she was being helped by you. So Lou got a little teary and said, “I mean…we are sharing their burdens because it doesn’t feel like carrying them at all.” And then she just stood there and stared at the restaurant owner because you can imagine, Evy, it must’ve been a little awkward. You know, with all the Monkee and burden talk. Lou was pretty sure the owner wouldn’t get it. But he did, Evy. That restaurant owner got a little teary too, and he opened his arms wide and said to Lou, “Come. You give me a hug.” And Lou did. And it was magic.

The magic was that Lou had reminded that restaurant owner that We Belong To Each Other. And she was able to offer that reminder to someone else because you reminded her. Evy, I wonder who the restaurant owner reminded? I bet people are still reminding each other that They Belong to Each Other because of that one little trip two Monkees took to your mama’s favorite restaurant.

There’s more magic happening, Evy. But I’ll stop there. Cause I want to talk to you about your mama for a moment.

Evy, I’ve been spending a lot of time squinting my eyes tight and staring at this picture. Trying to see your mama more clearly. She’s kinda faded there, in the background of this picture. I bet she’s actually feeling a little faded these days, too. Mamas feel that way sometimes. Especially mamas who have put their lives on hold to nurse their family back to health.

But Evy, I want you to look really closely at this picture. Look at your mama.

It appears that on the morning this picture was taken, your mama decided to get out of bed. It looks like she brushed her hair and pulled it back in that sweet little ponytail. Apparently she decided on a purple tank top that day, Evy. Purple. So hopeful. She even layered her tank tops, Evy. She put on two. Then it seems she walked to your bedroom and dressed you and Stella, one at a time. I bet she kissed your cheeks first. And smelled your necks as she slid those homemade t-shirts over your heads. And then I bet she had to cover your head with sun block, Evy. I wonder what she was thinking while she rubbed your bald, smooth, perfect head. Whatever she was thinking, it is clear that she eventually took you outside. Outside to play. And look at her smile, Evy. It’s a real smile. It’s a laugh. All three of you are laughing. Lost in the middle of a moment that was so special that someone decided to snap a picture.

All because your mama decided to get out of bed, Evy.

This picture has changed my mental picture of HERO forever, Evy. I now believe that heroes wear purple tank tops and sit in the grass and laugh.

Evy, I am going to meet your mama this weekend at a silent auction Andrea has planned for your family. I am going to try to be composed, but I am certain that I will be completely star struck by your mama. I keep a list of heroes in my heart, Evy, and I’ve added your mama’s name in my best, fanciest handwriting. With beautiful purple ink. Jill.

Evy, when you finish reading this letter, please go hug your mama. Say thank you, baby. Thank your mama for being so fierce when you and your sister were two years old.

And thank you, Evy. Thank You, Jill and Brian and Stella. Thank you for reminding us that Life is Magical and that We Belong To Each Other.

I’m afraid you’re stuck with us forever.

Love,

G and TWMF

(The Whole Monkee Family)