To Mia

I worked at a pre-school two summers ago. I was a junior counselor in a bunk of 3 year olds. It's funny, people always think toddlers are so different then us, but I saw the same mean girl dynamics, the same kids in need, that I see every day in High School. One of the little girls I worked with inspired this letter.

Dear Mia,

Even at three years old I can't help but think you have everything figured out. Maybe it's something subtle, like you're big blue eyes  or small pout that contribute to this perception of you, but I know it's your more obvious characteristic that gives you this air of maturity; you're muteness.

In the six weeks I knew you I never heard you utter one word. At such a young age you were able to figure out that talk is cheap, no one will listen to you anyway, especially when you can't read yet.

Still, I can't help but hypothesize that your inability to talk comes from a different places, not your intelligence, but somewhere else that I just don't understand. I remember the first day of camp when you failed to ask a counselor to take you to the bathroom. Your Gap Kids shorts were soaked through with urine and there was a puddle on the floor. I want you to know that even though you might not have anything to say now you can't keep on pissing yourself for the rest of your life.

Maybe at three you don't have anything t0 say, but one day, hopefully, you will. I hope you are able to overcome whatever keeps you from speaking. My only advice to you is once you do find your voice, use it. Too many people are speaking, with nothing to say.

Sincerely,

Hannah