For whatever reason, the italics don't show up when I'm on my phone; so just a heads up: the letter is in italics, but it might not show on your phone.

Will had chosen the yellow table at kindergarten today. He always chose the yellow table. He quite liked it for some reason. He obediently unpacked his little notebook (which they never actually used for notes, but felt good to carry around anyway), sharpened his pencil, and waited for Miss Sparrows to tell them what they had to do.

Miss Sparrows was Will's favourite teacher. She was a short woman with dark wavy hair she always pulled into a low side ponytail, just like his mother! Her eyes were an uninteresting shade of brown, but they sparkled with love whenever she talked to her students. And she helped Will with his reading a lot, and didn't lose her patience even when he mixed up his 'b's and 'd's.

Today, she was wearing a knee-length blue dress patterned with little flowers and a little heart pendant necklace. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Good morning, Miss Sparrows." The class chorused.

She reached behind her desk and brought out a cardboard box. Everyone stood up in their seats and strained their necks to get a look. She waved a hand to make them sit, and took out a sheet of paper. It was a light yellow (Will approved) with lines of a slightly darker shade running across it.

"I thought we could work on our writing today. I'm going to give you all one of these and you'll have to write a letter."

"Which one?" One of the boys near the front asked, confused.

"Not a letter as in the alphabet, Mike," Miss Sparrows said with a small chuckle, "A letter as in words you write to somebody."

Will panicked slightly. He wasn't very good at writing. Or more specifically, spelling. He flexed his toes nervously, and fidgeted with his pencil. He caught Miss Sparrows eyes, and she gave him a reassuring nod.

"Don't worry about spelling, I'm just looking to see how accurately you can convey your feelings."

There was an audible sigh of relief from the whole class. She shook her head in an amused way, and started handing out the sheets.

"Who do we have to write to?" Will asked.

"Someone who's special to you." Miss Sparrows replied. "Like your parents, or your grandparents. Even your neighbour!"

Will contemplated writing to his mother. But that would be silly. He saw her everyday! And his grandparents. He'd never met his grandparents. His mother said that they lived far away.

He tapped his pencil thoughtfully on his cheek, and then stared hard at the paper, willing an idea to come to him. He was concentrating so hard, he didn't notice Miss Sparrows kneel beside him.

"Having trouble, Will?"

"Sort of…I can't decide who to write to!"

"Why not your parents?"

"I see my mommy everyday, and I tell her everything! I don't need to write her a letter!"

"What about your daddy?"

Will faltered. He always saw his mother getting uncomfortable when people asked about his father. He wasn't sure if there was something he wasn't supposed to say concerning the subject. If he said something wrong, his mother would be sad. Just like how she was sad after whoever had asked about his father had left.

"Will, is…is something wrong?" Miss Sparrows was looking at him with concern. She had noticed the fear in his eyes.

"Um…"

"You can tell me anything, you know that. Are you having trouble at home?"

"No!" Will said forcefully. His mother was perfect; she'd never be the cause of any of his problems.

"Well, all right then, I won't pry. Call me if you need any help, dear." She seemed surprised that he'd snapped at her. She got up and went to one of the girls at the opposite side of the class.

Will was sorry that he'd yelled. He honestly loved Miss Sparrows. But he just hadn't know how to respond to her questions. Because he loved his mommy the most. He looked back down at the paper in front of him, guilt bubbling inside.

An idea came to him. He thought about it for a second, and then called to Miss Sparrows across the room.

"Can we mail these?"

"I don't see why not. Sure!"

He bent over his paper and then started scribbling, at first quickly, but then slowing down as he concentrated on the words, trying to figure out just how he was going to say everything.

Dear Daddy,

Miss Sparrows told us to always start a letter by asking the other person how they were. So how are you? I'm pretty OK, I guess. I've never met you, so I don't know what I should talk to you about, but Miss Sparrows said that a letter is a bit of your heart that you let someone see, so since it's my letter, I think I should tell you about me.

If you don't know, I'm five years old, and I live with mommy in the city. I don't know where you are now, but we live in New York. It's a nice place, even if it is a bit noisy. Have you ever been here? Oh yeah, you must have been, since you met mommy here.

I love mommy a lot. She's the best. She's very beautiful and she always sings me songs, even if I tell her not to. I don't know the word. It's something like lull-bees? That doesn't make sense though. Bees sound awful. Mommy sounds so beautiful. Have you ever heard mommy singing, daddy? You really should.

Mommy says you were good at singing too. I'd like to hear you someday. Do you think I can? Please come visit us sometime. Mommy says you're busy, but maybe just one day? She really misses you. She thinks I don't see her, but she always goes off and cries after she tells me about you. I don't like it when she's sad like that. Did you really have to leave? Really, truly?

Will paused and looked down sadly, recalling a last Tuesday night, when he asked his mother whether his father had had blue eyes like his. She's said yes, and Will had been woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of her sniffling. He'd crawled into bed with her, even though the mattress was far too tiny, and kept asking her why she was sad.

She didn't tell him, no matter how many times he asked. But she'd smiled and hugged him tightly all night long, and Will had felt very safe and cozy.

Because she won't tell me why you left. Did you tell her? I think it's mean if you didn't. Because she says the only thing she loves more than you is me, and she always says she loves me very much. But I'm sure you did, because she says you were a good person.

She says I look like you. I'm happy about that, because I know what mommy looks like, but I haven't ever seen you, so I can sort of know how you look.

What is a daddy supposed to do? I asked some of the kids in my class, and Sam told me that a daddy's supposed to hand you things when you can't reach them and give you presents. Jenny told him that he was wrong, and that a daddy is supposed to hug you when you're scared, and keep you warm when you're cold, and read to you before bedtime, and lift you up when you're too tired to go to bed yourself. But mommy already does all that for me, both what Jenny says and what Sam says.

So I told them that, and Jenny said that a daddy's hugs were better when you're scared; because a daddy's much stronger than a mommy. And she says mommies are shorter than daddies, so you don't feel as safe when a mommy lifts you. Is that true? Because I think my mommy's really strong. She can hold four grocery bags at once! Can you do five then? Or six? That would be amazing!

Mommy's been a bit sick lately. Auntie Rose comes over sometimes, but I don't think she likes me. She doesn't ever smile at me or hug me like mommy, she just ignores me. And sometimes when mommy's really ill and she sees things that aren't there, she says it's my fault.

I don't tell mommy that she says that though; that'd make her sad. And she might tell Auntie Rose to stop coming over. If Auntie Rose isn't there when she can't walk by herself, I won't be able to help her, because I'm really short, and I'm not very powerful.

Will was vaguely aware that a lot of the others were done, as the noise level in the class was going up. It was nearly break time. He didn't really care though. He'd wanted to talk to his father, especially after Jenny told him what a father was supposed to do, and this felt very close.

Mommy says that you'll listen if I really want to talk to you. But I tried to call you on the phone the other day, and a lady picked up. She said it was the wrong number. What's your number, daddy? I asked mommy, and she laughed. I like it when she laughs, it means she's happy!

"Will?" Miss Sparrows had a bunch of sheets in her hand. She looked impressed when she saw that he'd nearly gotten to the end of the second side on his. "That's very good! Do you want another, or can you finish up on that?"

Will thought about it. "No thank you, Miss Sparrows!" He resumed writing the final paragraph.

So that was a little bit about me! And mommy, but you probably already know about mommy. Do you think you could visit like I asked? Or write back? I don't know your address, and neither does mommy, so we can't visit, but Miss Sparrows says she'll mail this letter for me. I really really hope you'll like it.

Sincerely,

Will

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you have time. :D