Describe an important item from your childhood. Why was it important and where is it now?
When I first read this title, I immediately drew a blank. An important item From my childhood? When I closed my eyes to think, the first thing that popped into my mind were my bookshelves.
It seems a strange choice, I know, but there it is. Let me explain.
As a child, I was an extremely avid reader. Reading was my joy, my refuge, my first love. When the children at school or at home were cruel, my friendships in my books never failed me. When the world was difficult to understand, there was always a quote or a saying to provide explanation or solace. I was never alone so long as I had a book. I went on adventures with my friends : "The famous five", "The secret seven" and "The three investigators". I solved mysteries with "Nancy Drew", "The Dana Girls" and "The Hardy boys". And I fell in love along with Jessica and Elizabeth from "Sweet Valley High".
I primarily read from the library, bringing home 7, 10, 16 books at a time and devouring them in the two week period. And slowly, over time, my personal collection of books grew. Old baby favourites like "Cuddles Bath Time" and "Dandy Duck" began to vie for space next to "Rumpelstiltskin", "Old Friends, New Friends" and "The good-bye day".
One day, my dad brought home two blocks of wooden shelving. They were old, slightly rickety and filthy, but the wood was solid underneath and he promised we could fix it right up. Fixing those shelves became a family project. While dad banged in nails and supports, my mom, my brother and I used damp cloths to clean up the layers of dust and dirt that coated those old shelves.
When they were finally clean and sturdy, we all got out the paint brushes and had a ball painting them white. And while my mom complained about the smell for days afterward, you could tell she was proud of it as well.
When the paint was dry and all was ready, my dad drilled holes and fixed in the L-brackets that would support the shelves and fix them to the wall. We then all pitched in to neatly set our books onto them.
I think it was the first project we had done together as a family.
When circumstances forced us to move out of the family home, we took just 4 things away with us: Our beds, our clothes, the gifts my mom parents had given her on her marriage and those old shelves.
For many years after that, they stood proudly on their legs of bricks in my parents garage. And so that garage became my refuge. "Mom, I'm just going down to the garage", I would say, and disappear in there for hours.
Today, twenty years after we moved, those same shelves under a new coat of paint and some new legs, stand proudly in my own home. They form the place of my refuge, still. They now form my library.
When I first read this title, I immediately drew a blank. An important item From my childhood? When I closed my eyes to think, the first thing that popped into my mind were my bookshelves.
It seems a strange choice, I know, but there it is. Let me explain.
As a child, I was an extremely avid reader. Reading was my joy, my refuge, my first love. When the children at school or at home were cruel, my friendships in my books never failed me. When the world was difficult to understand, there was always a quote or a saying to provide explanation or solace. I was never alone so long as I had a book. I went on adventures with my friends : "The famous five", "The secret seven" and "The three investigators". I solved mysteries with "Nancy Drew", "The Dana Girls" and "The Hardy boys". And I fell in love along with Jessica and Elizabeth from "Sweet Valley High".
I primarily read from the library, bringing home 7, 10, 16 books at a time and devouring them in the two week period. And slowly, over time, my personal collection of books grew. Old baby favourites like "Cuddles Bath Time" and "Dandy Duck" began to vie for space next to "Rumpelstiltskin", "Old Friends, New Friends" and "The good-bye day".
One day, my dad brought home two blocks of wooden shelving. They were old, slightly rickety and filthy, but the wood was solid underneath and he promised we could fix it right up. Fixing those shelves became a family project. While dad banged in nails and supports, my mom, my brother and I used damp cloths to clean up the layers of dust and dirt that coated those old shelves.
When they were finally clean and sturdy, we all got out the paint brushes and had a ball painting them white. And while my mom complained about the smell for days afterward, you could tell she was proud of it as well.
When the paint was dry and all was ready, my dad drilled holes and fixed in the L-brackets that would support the shelves and fix them to the wall. We then all pitched in to neatly set our books onto them.
I think it was the first project we had done together as a family.
When circumstances forced us to move out of the family home, we took just 4 things away with us: Our beds, our clothes, the gifts my mom parents had given her on her marriage and those old shelves.
For many years after that, they stood proudly on their legs of bricks in my parents garage. And so that garage became my refuge. "Mom, I'm just going down to the garage", I would say, and disappear in there for hours.
Today, twenty years after we moved, those same shelves under a new coat of paint and some new legs, stand proudly in my own home. They form the place of my refuge, still. They now form my library.
Good Times :D
ReplyDeleteAlways have looked forward to reading your work . u have a gift use it. Remember your school days?
ReplyDeletei really want book shelves!!
ReplyDelete