04/10/2026
I don't tend to share a lot of my personal life on this page but this was a major milestone that I'd like to share with you. A labour of love, like every treat I make for you all!
88 letters, 27 years.
It started July 20th, 1998 when my first child was born. That day (or probably a couple days later), I decided to write down my son’s birth story. The glitz, the glamour, the pain and the problems. On his first birthday, I thought, why not write another letter to him telling him about his first year of life. And so, it began.
On every birth and every birthday, of all 4 of my kids since then, I’ve written a letter to them telling them initially about their birth and then about the year they have just enjoyed, sometimes just endured. Some years the letter was written a few days/weeks late, but it was always written. I took notes throughout the years so I wouldn’t forget anything. I kept a bag with paper, pen and clipboard somewhere around, close by. I don’t know why I decided to make 21 years of age the final letter. It could’ve been 18, when each became an adult. But 21 it was. And as each “child” has turned 21, they’ve received their bundle of letters, which had been carefully tucked away in a file drawer each year, accumulating. No fanfare, just a quiet passing of their accomplishments, their challenges as seen through my eyes from my hands to theirs. I expected no comments, no thanks, no sharing or reading aloud. They were to do with them what they wanted to do. Read them or not.
As each was written, it was placed in a sealed envelope with a greeting “To X, on your Xth birthday” and a disclaimer “not to be opened until your 21st birthday” on the bottom. Of course, they weren’t receiving them so I didn’t worry that they would be opened early. The provision, the condition under which they would receive the letters. As adults, ready (hopefully) to read of their adventures and heartbreaks through the years.
I tried to keep the letters upbeat, while relaying all the facts good and bad. I prayed over each and occasionally added blessings for the future. Each letter was specifically about the child it was going to and when there were major world news items or family news to share, I tried to share with a perspective of how it affected that particular child.
And now, I’ve written my last letter. Handed to my 4th child a little after her 21st birthday because life happens. I’m wondering and worrying a little that she’s been thinking that I didn’t do them for her…. Last child syndrome and all. But it’s been hers, the last one, that has been the most difficult, the most meaningful. It’s the end of an era for me. The end of a labour of love. I’ve started many other things over the years – daily journals for myself and the kids, band records, pictorial rulers – that haven’t been seen to completion. I’m pleased with myself having accomplished and completed this one.
So that’s that. 27 years, 88 letters. Now what?
