When the morning sun had peeked through the window next to her bed, her eyes popped open. She was so ready to be ten years old. Papa had promised she would be old enough to decide some things for herself.

She had jumped out of bed and quickly put on her favorite red plaid dress with the puffy sleeves. This was the one she saved for special days. As she buttoned the front, the dress seemed a little tighter than the last time she wore it. Do birthdays make you expand? she wondered. Any tightness was hidden by the white pinafore Carolina slipped over the dress and tied with a bow in the back.

She had raced downstairs and into the kitchen where Mama had breakfast laid out on the table. Fritz was still in bed. He was always the last one to get to school. Sliding into his bench at the last possible second was the way he liked it. He’d rather do almost anything than go to school.

Carolina usually looked forward to breakfast, but today she had been in a hurry. Mama struggled to braid her hair while she ate fresh rye bread with sweet butter and a slice of goetta that Mama fried. Coaxing Carolina’s wispy brown hair into two even braids was a challenge even when Carolina wasn’t bobbing her head and wiggling. As Mama tied matching red ribbons to the end of each braid, she asked what Carolina wanted for her birthday dinner. Without a second thought, Carolina had shouted, “Eintopf!” Then she flew out the door, poking the last bit of bread in her mouth. She raced down the steps into the first day of being ten years old.

Carolina loved school. Her English teacher, Miss Bach, knew so much about everything. Sometimes she asked Carolina to stay after school to help her. The best part was when they talked about everything, just the two of them. They mostly spoke in English, but sometimes in German. Miss Bach was the only grownup who never treated her like a child. She was more like a friend or like the older sister Carolina wanted, but didn’t have.

When Miss Bach had dismissed the other students at the end of the day, she motioned for Carolina to wait. As soon as they were alone, she said, “Happy Birthday, Carolina. I have something for you.” She was smiling and her blue eyes sparkled. Little crinkles appeared near her eyes and the dimples in her cheeks.

Miss Bach always called her Carolina, never Carrie or any of the other awful nicknames some people used. Walter Schmidt and his friends at school called her Scary Carrie. Walter was a year older than Fritz but was in Fritz’s class. Carolina was smarter than Walter and knew more than he did. Walter knew it too, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Miss Bach said teasing was his way of showing he liked her. Carolina wasn’t so sure. She didn’t care if Walter Schmidt liked her or not. Carolina was her proper name, pronounced Caro-leena with a long “e” sound and the stress on “leena.” Papa called her Leenie when he felt especially loving or when he was trying to soften something he knew she didn’t want to hear.

Carolina remembered how Miss Bach opened her satchel and took out a package. “Open it,” she had said excitedly as she gave Carolina her present. Carolina untied the string and removed the wrapping. It was a beautiful book bound with smooth, brown leather. The edges of the pages were gold. “Tagebuch” was written on the cover in gold letters. Eagerly opening the book, Carolina asked, “What’s the story?” Puzzled, she looked up at Miss Bach. The pages were blank!

“Carolina, I love the stories you tell,” Miss Bach had begun. “You watch what’s happening around you, and you remember everything. You have strong opinions, too, that’s for sure. But the special way you put words together is a gift. You need a proper place to write down your thoughts. And you need a tool to do it,” Miss Bach added handing Carolina a new pencil.

Carolina’s eyes moved from Miss Bach down to the golden word “Tagebuch” and back to her teacher. Her very own diary where she could save her writing with a pencil on real paper. She never thought of herself as a writer. Ideas she’d written on a slate with chalk only lasted until the slate was filled up, and then they were erased.

“Oh, Miss Bach, thank you ever so much,” Carolina had gushed. It’s the best birthday present ever!” Words weren’t enough. Carolina impulsively flung her arms around Miss Bach’s waist and gave her a huge hug. When Miss Bach reached down to hug her back, Carolina planted an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek before dashing out of the classroom door, clutching the diary to her chest. Miss Bach smiled and gently touched the spot Carolina kissed. Never have I had a student quite like Carolina, she thought.

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 © 2022 by Nancy Noyes Silcox