The Case of the Elusive E

All day yesterday, we spent in searching for E. We searched everywhere, under the table, in the bookcase, amid the onions and the potatoes, but E did not turn up.

E, for those not in the know, is one of the letters of the English alphabet. It is a red letter, 1.5" tall, with a circular magnet attached to its back. Until yesterday, it dwelt peacefully with A, B, C, D and 21 others in a little box that came with my 19-month-old daughter's slate.

One day ago, it was there. One day hence, it was not. Life is like that. All search attempts and rescue missions proved futile.

In the absence of the most overworked letter of the English alphabet, the others are maintaining a stoic silence, unaware (or unwilling) to reveal the whereabouts of their missing comrade.

I, meanwhile, have not given up hope.


Dear E,
If you are reading this, please return home soon. All is forgiven.
Love, Mama.




Nearly 12 hours later. Today: E returned home without a word of explanation, seemingly careless of the heartache we had all gone through. What could we do? We could not subject him to third-degree methods to arrive at the truth. We decided to let it go.