Whenever I go home for a visit, I always feel a twinge of nostalgia. Even though I’ve made a home for myself in Cleveland, the house in Springfield where I grew up and where my parents still live will always be home.
When I went home for Easter last weekend, I decided to bring my childhood books back to Cleveland with me. They were sitting in boxes in my old bedroom (now my dad’s man cave) along with a few other keepsakes that refuse to fit in my one bedroom apartment. Fortunately, I’ve got organizing skills that are beyond this world so I was able to clear two precious shelves to showcase my collection of children’s books.
When I opened the boxes, I was overwhelmed with memories: Little Golden Books, dozens of American Girl and Baby-Sitters Club books, and a book of nursery hand rhymes my parents must have read to my brother and I a hundred times. They were all there.
Now they’re displayed proudly on my bedroom shelves. Their brightly colored spines greet me every day. They remind me where my love of reading came from. And to think, it all started with a couple of Berenstain Bears, a quick-witted detective named Nancy, and a bunny that liked to say goodnight to the moon.
What are your favorite books from your childhood?