The Little Door With Odie's Letter
Preschool (ages 3-5) · 6 pages · 3 min read · Free to read
Odie discovers a little brass door with his initial on a birch tree—his very own cubby that will open on Opening Day, seven sleeps away. He wants to fill it right now, but learns that staying empty means it's still waiting just for him. This is a story for children about to start preschool or begin a new adventure.
The update this story came from
Every Weeloom story starts with one short note from a parent. This is the note behind this one.
Odie starts pre-K in two weeks. We went to the open house last Thursday to see the room and meet his teacher, and he found the cubby with his name on it and stood in front of it for ages. He wanted to put something in it right then and was upset when I said we had to leave it empty until the first day. He's asked me every single morning since whether the cubby is still there.
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Odie counted his steps to the park. "Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three." Sock's blue head poked out of his pocket, listening.
At step forty-eight, Odie stopped. There was a birch tree beside the path. And low on the birch tree, no taller than his knee, was a little brass door.
Above the door, cut into the bark, was the shape of an O.
"That's my letter," said Odie. "That's my O."
A robin landed on a low branch. She wore a tiny brass key on a string around her neck.
"Good morning," said the robin. "You've found your cubby."
"My cubby?" said Odie.
"Every child gets one," said the robin. "It opens on Opening Day. Seven sleeps from now."
Odie thought about seven sleeps. That was a lot of sleeps.
Odie pulled Sock out of his pocket. "But I have something to put in. Right now. Sock could sit inside and wait for me."
He pushed the little brass door. It did not open.
He pulled the little brass door. It did not open.
He knocked, very politely. It still did not open.
Odie's chin wobbled. "It's my cubby. Why won't it let me?"
The robin hopped closer. "A cubby has to stay empty until the right day," she said gently. "Empty means it's still waiting for you. If we fill it early, it forgets whose it is."
Odie sniffed. He put Sock back in his pocket, deep down where it was warm.
"Seven sleeps," he said.
"Seven sleeps," said the robin. "Count them."
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Every morning, Odie asked, "Is the door still there?"
Every morning, the answer was yes.
He visited Grandpa Fen, who was picking tomatoes. Odie told him all about the little brass door.
"Hmm," said Grandpa Fen. "When something is yours, you want to fill it up. That's a fine, warm feeling." He put a small, smooth red tomato into Odie's hand. "For Opening Day. Something that grew slow and got there in time."
Odie tucked it very carefully into his other pocket.
Opening Day came. Odie counted his steps. Forty-eight, right on the mark.
The robin was waiting. She lifted the little brass key from around her neck and dropped it into Odie's palm.
The key was warm. The keyhole was the right size.
Click.
The little brass door swung open, and inside was a small wooden shelf, just big enough. Odie set the tomato on the shelf. He set Sock beside it, propped up so Sock could see out.
"I'll be back," Odie whispered. "It's mine now."
And the little door stayed open, waiting for him, in the sunlight on the birch tree.
A question for afterwards
What would you have chosen to put inside your own little brass door?
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