Sunlight is flooding my apartment and it is making me incredibly happy. Which feels a little strange, because yesterday we had a snowstorm and the beautiful white crystals steadily falling to the ground made me quite happy too. While I’m not totally impressed that we have a few fresh inches of snow, the warmth and sun of today will surely melt them so I can start enjoying the walking trail near my apartment, because I’m tired of slipping [and falling] on the icy ground.

Anyway, this weekend has been quite comfortable: cozy blankets and too much coffee, curled up by the window reading as it snows; organizing, cleaning, and reading near a window with the sun streaming inside and a fan blowing (and too much coffee). Also, doing my taxes, but that was frequently interrupted by bookshelf and book pile rearranging which brings me to the three subjects of this post: three books I used to read continuously that will always bring me comfort.

Walk Two Moons Sharon Creech

I’ve probably read this hundreds of times, although not once in the last ten or so years (I wrote briefly about this last year). I believe it was the first chapter book I ever read, during which I encountered the word “cadaver” for the first time as well as family tragedy and how adults [apart from grandparents who can never do any wrong] can really suck. I also wished I had a more interesting name like Salamanca or Winterbottom, but that probably had more to do with the fact three other girls in my grade at school had the same name as I did than me hating my name. It all affected me quite profoundly.

Ramona Quimby, Age 8 Beverly Cleary

I credit the majority of the development of my sassy, passionate, imaginative, and internally worrisome nature to Ramona Quimby. My parents and environment probably had some influence too, but whatever. As a child I wanted to be Ramona, with a cool older sister and a family cat, but had to settle for just being a reader of her. Beverly Cleary created my first literary world and my first favorite character with Ramona, from Henry Huggins to Ramona’s World, and like hundreds of thousands of adults who were forced to grow up because of the evil rotations of the Earth, I am forever grateful.

The Magician’s Nephew C.S. Lewis

While The Chronicles of Narnia is a series overflowing with magical properties, perhaps the most magical part is the fluidity of the order in which it can be read. I have been familiar with the story of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe since I can remember, but the first Chronicle I actually read was The Magician’s Nephew. Two friends exploring a secret attic, being tricked into touching magic rings, and then being transported to a magical woodland; what more could a child want?! I was always so excited to check these books out from the library, and so excited that it never really mattered which ones were available because C.S. Lewis was such a genius in creating such a multi-dimensional magical world.

 

 

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