I'm Gretchen Rubin and this is a little happier.

Last week, I read a passage from Helen Keller's autobiography, The Story of My Life, in

which she describes the moment, the morning, when she first understood language, when her

teacher spelled the word water into her hand.

This week, I'm going to read a letter that Anne Sullivan, her teacher, wrote to Sophia

Hopkins on April 5, 1887, about that very same incident.

Because it's interesting to hear her perspective on that life-changing moment.

Anne Sullivan writes,

I must write you a line this morning because something very important has happened.

Helen has taken the second great step in her education.

She has learned that everything has a name and that the manual alphabet is the key to

everything she wants to know.

In a previous letter, I think I wrote you that the words mug and milk had given Helen

more trouble than all the rest.

She confused the nouns with a verb, drink.

She didn't know the word for drink, but went through the pantomime of drinking whenever

she spelled mug or milk.

This morning, while she was washing, she wanted to know the name for water.

When she wants to know the name of anything, she points to it and pats my hand.

I spelled W-A-T-E-R and thought no more about it until after breakfast.

Then it occurred to me that with the help of this new word, I might succeed in straightening

out the mug-milk difficulty.

...