July 2021

Dear Rykelan,

We met you for the first time on July 16, 2021.

You were a tiny little thing, just thirteen months old and on the cusp of walking. You’d hold our fingers in your tight grip and race across the floor using us for balance.

You got into everything. You pulled books off shelves. Your were obsessed with everyone’s shoes.

While some kids carried around sentimental stuffed animals or blankets, your security item was your sippy cup. So long as you had a cup gripped tight in one hand, you were golden.

That first week together, I brought you up to camp to see the water and play outside. You did so well on the boat, though you didn’t love wearing your hat. I did my best to keep it on you so your bald little head wouldn’t end up sunburnt.

One of the first meals we cooked for you that week included a turkey burger. (Which you ate and loved that first time I made it, but then you’d never eat it again.)

Your dad and I tried to entice you to eat the turkey burger, so we started chanting”

Tur-key Bur-ger. Tur-key Bur-ger. Tur-key Bur-ger.

You thought this was hilarious.

And thus, your first nickname with us was born.

From then on, you were our little Turkey.

We took so many walks those first few weeks. You’d babble happily to yourself for the first 20-30 minutes before falling asleep for the rest of the walk. You loved the fresh air, no matter the weather.

You also became fast friends with your doggy sister, Penny. (As you two got older, your sibling rivalry became a bit more contentious—Penny was always stealing your food and your toys!—but your early days together were very sweet.)

Our early days together were sweet and fun and also a little terrifying. I wanted to do right by you, and I felt so behind in my parenting skills. But you were such an easy baby. Happy and bright and so very snuggly.

I miss you, Turkey. I love you.

-Mom