Thursday, April 19
Get a Library Card/ The Childhood of Dreams//And Also The One Where I Use The Word Neighborhood Too Often For a Girl Who Can't Spell.
I vividly remember getting my first library card. My mother used to take us to the library on Saturdays and let us take out as many books as we wanted. AS MANY. but only until we got ambitious in our strive for genius and she limited us to 40. Every Saturday. Or least what I remember to be every saturday. It's always the most memorable things of our past that seem to have been more regular than they actually were.
We would fill our shopping bags with picture books and crafting books and thin little chapter books that made us proud of our skills, adorning little smiles on our faces as we walked out to the car knowing we had treasures in our hands. I remember my mother's library card, and how worn it looked, how important it felt in my fingers. I remember the day she asked me if I wanted my own, how grown up I felt, how important it looked in my empty wallet.
Though books are becoming less mainstream as the internet steals away more and more of our daily attention and as school has been enforcing upon me an excess of reading which has damped my desires to read books of my own, books will hold a place in my heart forever. I owe a part of that to my lovely mother and her dedication to bringing us to the library. Books offer us a chance to experience a different world in a way that film will never achieve, for they have no time limit and because our imaginations are powerful and vivid.
I went for a walk in my neighborhood today. My new neighborhood. It still feels weird calling it MY neighborhood, though I've lived here for 2 years now. Change is hard to get used to. The houses I walked past and the front yards I gazed into reminded me of my childhood. Mostly because the houses in my neighborhood look as if they were all build at the same time as my childhood house was, but also because we used to go for walks when I was younger and just doing it reminds me of carefree days with my sisters and a stay at home mother who blessed us more than we will ever fully understand.
My childhood was amazing and it shaped me and taught me so much about life and how to love and just be happy. Carefree independence was given to me as a gift and I embraced being my own self very young, wearing tights on my head and singing when I felt like it. Somewhere along the line we tend to forget those key lessons we learn as kids, and it's the lucky ones that life chooses to remind. My childhood caused me to be a dreamer, and though I often forget the wild adventures that life has to offer, today, reminiscing over my childhood love for books and my incredible family is reminding me that this life is crazy and beautiful.