The Story of My Life

The first Christmas after Miss Sullivan came to Tuscumbia was a great event.  Every one in the family prepared surprises for me, but what pleased me most, Miss Sullivan and I prepared surprises for everybody else.  The mystery that surrounded the gifts was my greatest delight and amusement.  My friends did all they could to excite my curiosity by hints and half-spelled sentences which they pretended to break off in the nick of time.  Miss Sullivan and I kept up a game of guessing which taught me more about the use of language than any set lessons could have done.  Every evening, seated round a glowing wood fire, we played our guessing game, which grew more and more exciting as Christmas approached.

On Christmas Eve the Tuscumbia schoolchildren had their tree, to which they invited me.  In the centre of the schoolroom stood a beautiful tree ablaze and shimmering in the soft light, its branches loaded with strange, wonderful fruit.  It was a moment of supreme happiness.  I danced and capered round the tree in an ecstasy.  When I learned that there was a gift for each child, I was delighted, and the kind people who had prepared the tree permitted me to hand the presents to the children.  In the pleasure of doing this, I did not stop to look at my own gifts; but when I was ready for them, my impatience for the real Christmas to begin almost got beyond control.  I knew the gifts I already had were not those of which friends had thrown out such tantalizing hints, and my teacher said the presents I was to have would be even nicer than these.  I was persuaded, however, to content myself with the gifts from the tree and leave the others until morning.

That night, after I had hung my stocking, I lay awake a long time, pretending to be asleep and keeping alert to see what Santa Claus would do when he came.  At last I fell asleep with a new doll and a white bear in my arms.  Next morning it was I who waked the whole family with my first “Merry Christmas!” I found surprises, not in the stocking only, but on the table, on all the chairs, at the door, on the very window-sill; indeed, I could hardly walk without stumbling on a bit of Christmas wrapped up in tissue paper.  But when my teacher presented me with a canary, my cup of happiness overflowed.

Little Tim was so tame that he would hop on my finger and eat candied cherries out of my hand.  Miss Sullivan taught me to take all the care of my new pet.  Every morning after breakfast I prepared his bath, made his cage clean and sweet, filled his cups with fresh seed and water from the well-house, and hung a spray of chickweed in his swing.

One morning I left the cage on the window-seat while I went to fetch water for his bath.  When I returned I felt a big cat brush past me as I opened the door.  At first I did not realize what had happened; but when I put my hand in the cage and Tim’s pretty wings did not meet my touch or his small pointed claws take hold of my finger, I knew that I should never see my sweet little singer again.