14 October 2011
I grew up devouring books. I loved them and still do. And while my reading preferences have changed over the years, there is still a place reserved deep in my soul for Pippi Longstockings, Mrs. Piggle Wiggle, Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl and Shel Silverstein. In these stories, everyday boundaries are blurred, life looks a bit different, creativity is celebrated and all of the annoying 'adult' words are banished.
I have thought endlessly what it would be like to have chandeliers sticking up from the floor and to sport bright red hair twisted into out of control braids. I've wondered how far ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too's flying shoe could really travel. And, I've racked my brain to figure out how a cat could balance a fish bowl on a cane without spilling the bowl's water.
The stories were vibrant and filled with grand gestures. But, perhaps the most intriguing aspect is that the books had many tiny surprises. Things you would find only after a second or third reading. Layers that kept building on an already exciting adventure.
To this day I continue to love tiny unsuspected surprises. Which is exactly why, tucked next to the molding of a door frame in our house, there are two tiny shims from a painter's canvas lettered to reflect one of the stories of a childhood author. A tiny surprise for anyone who happens upon it. And, a reminder that a flood of great memories are here and there.