Three large shelves.
Good morning from cloudy Vermont. When I was young, I owned maybe five books. So when our girls were born, I flooded our home with the books I never had. I read to them for hours at a stretch, and kept them well-provisioned once they read by themselves. Now they are fourteen and twenty, and they don’t feel the need to keep most of the books I gave them. They are “let’s pass things along” girls, as I raised them to be. So now we have three large shelves of children’s books, with no grandchildren in sight, a pressing need to downsize, and no room to store them. It pains me to give them away, because they hold so many memories for me. If I could find that one young girl who yearns for books like I did, I think I could let go. But still, the Dana Girls series? Beatrix Potter? Natalie Kinsey Warnock’s beautiful illustrations? In a more perfect world, I’d box them all neatly in the attic and label them each “wonderful stories for kids.” But I don’t have an attic. I’m the one who wants a small house, remember? So what do I do?
I tried pulling out the pre-teen books I hadn’t read. But then I remembered the joy they gave my girls–the Cornelia Funke books and Chasing Vermeer., Ally Carter’s spy school mysteries. So I added them all back in. Back to square one. Three large shelves of children’s books and the fierce urge to keep them. The funny thing is that I’ve given most of my own books away without much angst, and have just one shelf of favorites in my office. But Henry and Mudge?
Do you know a young girl who yearns for books as much as I do? Check back next week for another segment of Finding Home.