Kate, I couldn't resist sharing this as the Featured Post! It brought a smile to my face (thank you):
I always used to smell library books. I wouldn't exactly recommend it, because they don't smell good. But as a seven year old, I would walk into the magical childrens wing of our little Elyria public library, which had walls transformed into trees, and cases full of people's collections (Pez dispensers, trolls, Babushka Russian nesting dolls, etc.). I would find a branch on which to sit as I poured over my favorites. I would pull books from bins and smell the crease in the spine, the smellier the better. That meant more hands, more people who had read the same words.With new books, I would turn the pages carefully, but make sure to touch each one and leave a bit of myself for the next person. Even at seven, reading meant community for me. It meant escaping into another world that I could share with other book worms. My mom made fun of my dad for telling me, "Books are your friends" after I had tried to deface my copy of the Velveteen Rabbit. But I think I believed it.
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3 comments:
I always used to smell library books. I wouldn't exactly recommend it, because they don't smell good. But as a seven year old, I would walk into the magical children's wing of our little Elyria public library, which had walls transformed into trees, and cases full of people's collections (Pez dispensers, trolls, Babushka Russian nesting dolls, etc.). I would find a branch on which to sit as I poured over my favorites. I would pull books from bins and smell the crease in the spine, the smellier the better. That meant more hands, more people who had read the same words.With new books, I would turn the pages carefully, but make sure to touch each one and leave a bit of myself for the next person. Even at seven, reading meant community for me. It meant escaping into another world that I could share with other book worms. My mom made fun of my dad for telling me, "Books are your friends" after I had tried to deface my copy of the Velveteen Rabbit. But I think I believed it.
I love books. I always have. My parents do, too, and I cannot remember a time when there weren't lots of books around. In kindergarten, when the other children wouldn't play with me, the teacher would send me to read in the book corner. On Christmas Day that year, I opened one of my presents. It was a book. I looked at the first page, full of squiggles. As I looked at it, the squiggles popped and weren't squiggles anymore. They were letters, and words, and I could read them! I read that book over and over that day, until my parents had to ask me to stop and read silently.
My kids love to check out huge piles of library books. When they were little, it would be funny to watch them try to carry books of all different sizes in their little arms. I still have those large library book piles sitting next to my couch. It's so much fun to see their eyes light up when they enjoy a special picture book. These library visits with the kids will always be a fond memory for me. I think that I'll continue the tradition when I have grandkids. Years and years from now:)
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