Dilly's Letters

Dear Anwen,

I can't believe I've been here a whole month and not written to you! Actually, I can. It's been really really busy here, and they won't let me have a stylus to write to you in Braille. It's a sharp object and they told me it wasn't safe, even though I'm not one of the people that hurts herself. There are all kinds of rules here about what you can and can't have. They even took away my hand sanitizer because it had alcohol in it, and I guess an alcoholic might be desperate enough to drink it although I don't know why because I bet begonia-scented hand sanitizer tastes really awful. Anyway, I can't have a stylus either. So I don't know who, but someone's going to have to read this to you. You can still write to me in Braille--I just can't write back that way.

Anyway, let me tell you all about Highgrove. You always say I have to be your "eyes", so I've been looking ever so carefully around for you. It's actually very beautiful. One of my teachers told me it used to be a country estate back in the 18th century, so it's very grand. Not a castle, but kind of close. There's a farm, too, and an ack aqu equas equestre stables and such. We don't do a lot of school, but we have to chores. I got assigned to chores on the farm. I don't like that so much, but at least I can find clean jobs to do.

Oh, Anwen, you'll never believe it--I've made TWO friends! My first friend is Tara Anne Barlow, pronounced "Tair-ah", not "Tah-rah" like we pronounce it over here. She's from Canada--honest, Anwen! She came to live with her brother and she doesn't talk about her mum and da too much, and I remembered what you said and didn't push her. But she's very nice. She's older--not as old as you, she's only sixteen, I think--but she's ever so nice. I shan't miss you so much if I have her to be a substitute big sister.

My other friend is Michael. I don't know his last name, but he's even nicer than Tara Anne. He's just my age--fourteen--and he's only a little bit taller than I am, and he doesn't look his age either. He has one big sister and two big brothers, and he's got brown hair and hazely-green eyes, and he even has OCD, just like me! It's like we're practically almost the same person. We met in the hallway on his first day, when I was going to read and he had tried to go somewhere quiet to be homesick, and we talked for ages. He noticed that purple was my favourite colour and that my name was Welsh, and he made me smile and laugh a lot.

I really wish I could write in Braille for this next part, so I could say this just to you and not to anybody else, but maybe whoever's reading this to you will make sure this part is private, just between you two and me? I hope so. Anyway, Michael made me feel so weird--but in a good way. I blushed a lot when he looked at me, and I had this fluttery feeling in my stomach, like I'd swallowed butterflies. What does it mean? I like the feeling he makes me have and I like being around him. I kind of hoped we could be special friends. Is that what the butterfly-feeling means?

I have to go now, but I want to hear from you--soon! Write back to me as soon and as often as you can. Please! I miss you lots!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Love,
Dilly