It seems strange to me sometimes that 26 years after leaving my hometown, I still tell others I am going home when I visit there. My home is the home in which I live, but that home in my heart is the home in which I was raised. It looks a bit different now...an enclosed porch, my dad's inflatables in the front yard on holidays. But it is still home.Upstairs in that childhood home are shelves of books that I love for various reasons: the Tom & Jerry Golden Book my youngest son loved listening to as much I as did, the Ian Fleming books my oldest son reads and rereads each time he is there, the copy of Jane Eyre I first read, the picture book Too Much Noise I got from a book club order (and which is read often as a pattern book now at my school). I love to stand in front of those shelves and remember.
Ah, nice memory.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad I could get a taste of your home last weekend. You have a wonderful, warm home to go home to. I also enjoyed hearing you point out all the landmarks of your youth, and eating at one of your hometown's trademark restaurants.
ReplyDeleteAnd I, too, got TOO MUCH NOISE (along with a floppy plastic record) from the Scholastic book club order when I was in grade school! I can still hear the sounds effects on the record of the wind blowing and the house creaking.
I wasn't a recipient of the record, but I do recall those, David! I love your memory of the recording's sounds :)
ReplyDelete