Dear Diary,
Ellie here.
It was a warm 76 degrees today at the warmest. In the house the temperature read 80 degrees. It was so warm that we opened all the windows and let the curtains flow in the breeze. It feels good to have the feeling of summer in the air.
The last few days, when we could we've been planting the garden, the girls have been helping me. Anna always helpful, Arie likes to imitate Anna and she is starting to pick things up quickly. And then there is little 3 year old Amy who is quickly becoming like her two sweet sisters. I can say that to you dear diary because this is just between you and I, but I could never admit to those around me that I think my children are sweet and lovely. That would be showing too much pride. Sometimes dear diary, I'm not sure I was supposed to be Amish. I don't always feel like I'm supposed to on the inside. I understand what Karen, my Mennonite neighbor, says when she tells me, "my children are my pride and joy, if I could have 20 of them I would."
Diary, who am I kidding? I'm rambling about my girls when in fact I am blue and upset tonight. I'm not sure how to say this, but I received the most disturbing news this week and since then I've been trying to figure out how I feel about things and what to do about them. On Tuesday sister Ina stopped by and picked me up to go spend the day with sister Ruth and while we were in the buggy making our trek back home from Ruth's house Ina reached into her dress pocket and pulled out an envelope. She told me that last year after our mom had passed away and we were getting ready for children's sale that she was cleaning out mom's bureau drawers and under the paper lining of the top drawer she found this envelope. She had paused for a second and then opened it and could hardly believe the content of the letter. She was so stunned and horrified that she quickly placed the letter back in the envelope and placed it it in her dress pocket before any of us other children would see. She decided she wanted to take it home and discuss it with Steven first and see what he thought she should do.
Her husband didn't know what she should do and told her to hide the letter in their safe until they could figure out what to do. For the last year that envelope has been burning a hole in Ina's heart and has caused her many sleepless nights because she didn't know what to do. Tuesday morning she figure it was "now or never" and she brought it along to Ruth's house with the intentions of telling all of us sisters together or to see what my reaction was before she decides what to do with it. She decided to go with the latter option and on Tuesday afternoon on our ride home she pressed that envelope into my hands and said, "I want you to read this and then we will discuss what you have read." She looked relieved and pale all at the same time. I was honestly very apprehensive when I saw how pale and shaken she looked, but as she handed the envelope over to me there seemed to be a burden lifted in her heart.
Diary, the problem is now I am the one with the sleepless nights. I could not believe the content of that letter and it was a long letter at that. There were ten handwritten pages, all written in our mother's handwriting. If I didn't know her handwriting so well, I would have to doubt that any of the contents were true, but as I know my mother, she never lied and was not one for making up stories and so this letter and its content must be true.
Tonight, dear diary, I do not know how to feel. When I told John about it he seemed to have the same reaction as Steven, it was up to us sisters what we wanted to do with this information. He did say that maybe we should go see Bishop Sam about it and see what Sam has to say, but Ina and I are not sure if that is the right thing to do either. Our mother's reputation is at stake, if the content of this letter makes it out to the public our mother's name will be shamed forever, even in her grave.
My heart is so heavy tonight. The house is quiet, the family is all in bed and here I sit at the library table, mostly staring into the flame of the kerosene lamp that once was my mother's. The oak library table itself has been handed down through several generations on my mother's side of the family and a year ago I purchased it for $800 at her children's sale.
The morning of the children's sale John had handed me the checkbook and had said, "Ellie, this is your parent's sale, the last of what they had, look at the amount in the checkbook, you can buy whatever you like with the money that is in the checkbook. I remember looking at the amount that was in the checkbook and wondering if I could ever spend that much money at the sale. Be as it was, I purchased small items all day long, thinking about my children and items they might like to have as keepsakes from their grandparents, but all those things collectively had cost very little and so as it came time to sell the furniture I knew that I wanted the library table and so I bid my brother Alvin up and finally when the number hit $800 he smiled at me and shook his head and said, "let her have it." Everyone laughed and I have to say, I felt a little bit guilty, but I love that I have it, especially tonight as I sit here writing out all my thoughts.
Diary, is it possible to sit so close to things that were my mother's and yet feel so far away from her and wonder if I ever really knew her?
I am getting tired, my eyes are as heavy as my heart, I hope the "Good Man" allows me to get a good night's sleep and maybe in the new day some light will be shed on what to do with what Ina and I know.
Ellie
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