Books my parents left me
Reading was big thing in my house. I looked forward to weekly trips to the library and the opportunity to lose myself in another world. Books were my escape, my distraction, my inspiration. Out of the six children in my family, I was the one with the love of words.I ate up books devouring them voraciously. In second grade I remember my teacher’s astonishment that I had so quickly finished the book she’d handed out earlier. Thinking she caught me skimming it, she tested me on the vocabulary, spelling, meaning of the words and the plot. Of course, I passed. The photo is part of a collection of books I inherited from my parents after they died. I remember flipping open the dictionary, and point to a random word. I’d read it, pronounce it and learn the meaning. The book itself weighs a ton, the other side has little indents with two letters on each one it so you can flip open the page to the appropriate section. I remember thinking how amazing it was that this book contained all the words in the English language, and how I could never possibly learn them all (I was right). The next few entries here will be about the books, my memories and what they meant to me growing up. I’m hoping reading them, exploring them, will help me put the loss of my parents and what they’ve given me into perspective. Mom save the dictionary for me. She knew no one else would want it. It’s old school, a little battered but certainly still capable of doing its job. Kind of like me.