Dear Helen Keller,
I do miss you something awful. I am old and will die soon, so I will write to you all my thoughts on our most precious and memorable moments while I was teaching you.
That day did not go the way I thought it would go. I was so exited to meet you that day. As soon as I laid my hands on you, you screeched at me and ran toward your mother. I felt some envy for your mother wile I as staying with you. I know she was your mother, but I thought you were going to love me at first sight. In the beginning, you preferred your mother to me. And when I tried to hug you again you kicked at me andclawed for Mrs. Keller to pick you up. I hoped the next day would go better. It didn’t. But I was so determined to get through to you because I knew how it felt to locked up in your own world. I wanted to help you find the key.
And remember that time you punched out my back tooth? I chased you around the house and called you little devil. Muttering and talking to you even though you couldn’t hear was a way that I got through my upset and frustrated feelings when you wouldn’t let me teach you. “Lord above, Saint Christopher help her,” was what I always said each night after a hard day with you. Mrs. Keller always kept a very close watch on me whenever I was beyond the point of frustration. I don’t blame her. I probably would have hit you. I’m sure you recall, I did a couple of times. But, your mother heard you screaming like the Devil himself and always came running down to check on you. Once I told her, “I’m likely to tear that screaming mouth from her face when I get my hands on her!” It wasn’t always easy to stay patient with you.
Oh, Helen! That day at the well was the happiest day of my life! When your stubborn but dear heart finally learned the meaning of words, my heart filled with pride and a new determination to teach you to make sentences. When that water trickled down your hands, I noticed that you were listening with every bone and fiber. You were beginning to find life in words!
And remember that time you met Laura Bridgman, Helen? It made me so happy to see you two communicating and writing on each other’s hands. Laura was taught to always be proper and lady-like. She insisted you sit on the chair instead of the floor and that you keep your legs crossed instead of open. All of our hard work was finally paying off. You finally had a friend to communicate with.
I think that after I had reached through to you, were the happiest, brightest child ever. I think being cooped up inside your own head with no way to really communicate with people, is what caused you to be a little Mss. Spitfire.
I love you dearly, Helen. Those years with you were just plain golden.