Tonight as I was putting some of books on the shelf, making it pretty as I’ve been reorganizing, I thought about some of my favourite books, some books that mean so much to me, so much to my heart. I thought about the book I got for my sixteenth birthday from my Granny and Papa, and how I will never, ever get rid of it. It was Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I didn’t read it until I was eighteen, I think, but I will always keep that well worn copy, with Granny’s note in the front. Another of my favourites is Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster. My mom and I read that together when I was probably sixteen or seventeen, I’m not sure. I can still remember those nights, each of us reading a few pages, making friends with those characters, and becoming better friends as mother and daughter.
Really what is more personal than books? For me, books reveal so much about a person. Think about it. What books do you recommend to people? I always find myself recommending those books that bring back the best memories, the books that saw me through my tough teenage years, the books that make me laugh and made me feel like the author wrote those lines just for me.
My heart is so full tonight as I look at my shelves and see friends, soul mates. Hi Francie Nolan, Hi Judy Abbot, Hi Lizzie Bennett. I’ll visit soon, I promise.
