“i”

This is “i.”

“i” is a pretty outgoing little gal.

“I really am quite an extrovert,” said “i.” “And I love being the center of attention.”

“We know,” said the other letters. “When a sentence starts, you often like being first.” “I really do,” said “i.”

And so it went.

Now, it wasn’t that “i” was rude or unkind, she was just, well, kind of full of herself.

You see, “i” kind of knew she acted like a big shot, but she didn’t really think about it much because she was so busy being “I,” that, however, was about to change.

It all started one sunny day when the vowels were deciding what to do.
 “I think the amusement park sounds nice,” said “a.”
“I would love to see the elephants at the zoo,” said “e.”
“I would like to have ice cream,” said “i.”
“I want to play outside,” said “o.”
“I am unsure what to do,” said “u.”

Then “y,” who sometimes joined in, said “I would like to go yodeling.”

And then it happened. “Do you realize that all of you started your sentences with “I?” said “i.”

“Yes,” said the other letters.

“i” had mentioned this before and it was starting to annoy the other vowels. It’s not that the other letters didn’t think that “i” had an important role, it’s just that she liked to point out how important she was and, at times, forgot to appreciate her friends and how valuable they were too.

In fact, sometimes, when the other vowels had a thought, idea, or an opinion, “i” would point out that, without her, they couldn’t. “You see,” said “I,” “without me, none of you could say what was on your mind. I allow everyone to have their own voice.” 

Then “i” would say her favorite phrase –
               “Everyone would just agree without the all important me.”

 “But,” chimed in the other vowels, “we are all necessary.” “You know, without vowels,” said “e,” “we would all just mumble;” – “or mmbl,” said “u.”  All the letters laughed.

“You’re right,” said “i.” “Sometimes, I just forget, because whenever someone has something to say well, there I am again. Just remind me when I do it and I’ll stop.”

 “O.K.,” said the other letters.

And they did – again, and again, and again.

Every now and then, it worked.

For, like all of us, “i” didn’t always want to stand alone, “at times,” she thought, “I just want to be included.” And that’s when big I would become little i and join the other vowels.

“This is nice,” said “i,” “just hanging out in the middle with you guys.” And it was. All the letters liked when “i” hung out with them. And “i” liked it too.

Now, even when “i” is part of a word, she still likes to be heard, which is why when “i” is in the middle, it’s pretty easy to find her as long as you’re listening.  

But not every letter can be heard all the time, and this is true for “i” as well.

This is why, when “i” is next to another vowel in a word, you often can’t hear “i” at all. 

In fact, a lot of the time, she sounds like the vowel she’s next to or another vowel altogether. As you can imagine, “i” is not very enthusiastic about this, especially when it’s common words like air, musician, eight, piece, point, radio, juice, and aquarium.  

One day, when “i” was feeling kind of sad about not being heard, she went and talked to “e.” “e,” said “i,” “when I’m next to you or another vowel, you usually can’t hear me.” “e” had also seen this and said, “I noticed that too, so I made up another rule so you’ll get noticed: 

‘Listen with your ears, that is always true, but looking for your ‘i’s’ is the best thing to do.’ ”

“Thanks,” said “i,” “you’re a good friend.“

Now, as much as “i” liked her vowel friends, her best friend was the letter “l.” They became friends because people often mistook them for the same letter. At first, this made “i” angry. “I am not ‘l!’ Dot your ‘i!’ Dot your ‘i!’ ” 

“Don’t get mad,” said “l” to “i,” one very mixed up day. “Sometimes people think I’m the number 1.” “Really?” said “i.” “Really,” said “l.” “Tell you what. We’ll make a promise,” said “l,” “I won’t get mad for being mistaken for a 1, if you don’t get mad for being mistaken for me.” 

“Deal,” said “i.” “But, you know,” said “i,” “no one mistakes me for you when I’m big.” And that’s when little “i” would become big, busy, big shot “I.”

Unfortunately, when “i” was feeling this way, she would forget that she needed her vowel friends as much as they needed her. 

“ ‘i’ is at it again,” said “a.”
“Egads!” said “e.”
“Oh no,” said “o.”
“Unbelievable,” said “u.”
“You see,” said “y.”

“i” needed to work a little harder.

“Maybe,” she thought, “I am being a little bit conceited. Maybe, I should be grateful for my friends.”

But, sometimes, knowing the right thing is a lot easier than doing the right thing, and for “i” this was definitely the case.

So, one day, the other vowels decided to play a trick on “i” to show her how much she really did need them. You know what they did? They hid. 

So, when “i” went to look for her friends she found that she was speechless, except, of course, for the letter “I.”

“I, I, I…” she said.

You see, without the other letters, I couldn’t have a thought, an idea, or an opinion, because without the other letters, “i” was simply “I.”

Then she saw the other vowels hidden between the lines and “i” realized something very important. “Without my letter friends,” she thought, “I truly am all alone.”

And at that moment, “i” understood everything her friends had been telling her.

“You are all important,” said “i”.

“So are you,” said the other letters.

And with that, “i” learned the value of friendship.

“I always knew you had it in you,” said “a.”
“I always believed in you,” said “e.”
“I did too,” said “o.”
“I always liked you,” said “u.”
“I knew you’d turn out to be a true friend,” said “y.”
And “i”, noticing all the I’s, smiled and said… 

“Thank you.”