Kept on this device
In the apartment across the courtyard from Aino lived an old man named Mr Virtanen. Every afternoon he sat at his window, and every afternoon Aino waved to him on her way home from school in Helsinki, Finland. He always waved back, but he never came outside.
“Does he have any friends?” Aino asked her mother one snowy evening.
“His family lives far away,” said Mother. “I think the winter feels long for him.”
Aino thought about that all night. The next day, she wrote a letter in her neatest handwriting. She told Mr Virtanen about her school, her cat Pulla and the snow fort she had built. She drew a picture of Pulla wearing a scarf. Then she slipped the letter into his mailbox.
For three days nothing happened. Aino began to worry that she had been silly.
On the fourth day, there was an envelope in her own mailbox. Inside was a letter in shaky, careful handwriting and a small pencil drawing of a sailing ship.
“Dear Aino,” it said. “Thank you for your wonderful letter. Pulla looks very elegant in her scarf. When I was young, I was a sailor. I have seen icebergs, whales and the northern lights over the sea. Would you like to hear about them?”
Aino certainly would. All winter, they wrote to each other. He described storms and harbours; she described spelling tests and football matches. He taught her how to draw ships, and she taught him how to fold paper cranes.
When spring came, the snow melted. One sunny Saturday, Mr Virtanen came down to the courtyard for the first time in months. He was holding a small wooden boat he had carved himself.
“For my pen friend,” he said. Aino thought it was the best present she had ever received.
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