When Rick first moved, all the kid stuff moved with him. This included all the picture books and a great many of my own childhood’s books. It was the least of my problems at the time.
However, a couple of months ago when I talked T.R. into cleaning out things he was done with from his room, he let me know that he was absolutely ready to part with his picture books and many other books. Naturally, only a very few left the building because I am not done with them yet. It got me thinking.
I have been going through the same process with T.R.’s books from his dad’s house, one bag at a time. The library has acquired some. A few of my younger friends have acquired some. And I am happily reunited with friends that I did not even realize I missed so deeply.
When I was a kid, I used to stare at the spines of my books in the dimness of the night light as I fell asleep (too dim to read by; I tried. And I was too obedient to try the traditional flashlight under the covers thing.). I reminded myself of the stories. I felt surrounded by benevolent characters.
As I am again.