Today is the birthday of Grace Ingalls, Laura’s youngest sister.
One of my favorite passages in the Little House books concerns Grace. It is found in chapter 30 of By the Shores of Silver Lake. Grace has disappeared on the prairie and Pa, Ma, and Laura are searching for her frantically, fearful that she may be lost in the Big Slough. Join me for a moment in Laura’s search.
She ran on and on. “Grace must have gone this way. Maybe she chased a butterfly. She didn’t go into Big Slough! She didn’t climb the hill, she wasn’t there. Oh, baby sister, I couldn’t see you anywhere east or south on this hateful prairie.” “Grace!”
The horrible, sunny prairie was so large. No lost baby could ever be found on it. Ma’s calling and Pa’s shouts came from Big Slough. They were thin cries, lost in wind, lost on the enormous bigness of the prairie.
Why does this passage draw me in? That fascinating first person usage, found nowhere else in the series — “Oh, baby sister, I couldn’t see you anywhere east or south on this hateful prairie.” That one simple line which surely must have been mistakenly put into the first person (or else, the first person was intentional due to the way Laura’s thoughts are being shown, but then the verb tense doesn’t fit) and missed by editors speaks volumes to me. It yanks me out of a fictional story and into a real and vivid memory, the memory of an elderly lady who, just for this moment, forgot she was writing a story and became her teenage self again, frightened and desperate to find her baby sister. It connects me to the real Laura and offers a brief glimpse into her heart.
I’m so glad she found you, baby sister. Happy birthday, Grace.