Books, books, and more books!
I love books-particularly old ones. There is something comforting about the musty scent wafting through the air as you cradle a timeworn tome within your hands and begin reading.
Where will you travel via the words contained within? To India, Paris, Rome? Perhaps you'll find yourself in the past riding in a horse drawn carriage to the castle on a hill or hunched in the trenches of the smoked clogged battlefields of Europe during WWII.
Wherever the book leads, it is a journey between you and the writer.
My love of books is deep-rooted and comes from a family that propagated reading. Whether it was mom reading a bedtime story, grandma perusing a magazine, or granddad skimming the newspaper, reading was an integral part of my childhood.
I have often pondered the unusual choices of favored stories in my younger years.
As a child my absolute favorite story was A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. My second favorite was the Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving (I know-there's kinda a ghost theme going:). Odd choices for a little girl, but then again, anyone who knows me is aware that I am not cut from normal cloth.
I distinctly remember slumber parities when my father would entertain us with spine tingling tales. One year he shared Poe's masterpiece, The Telltale Heart. He didn't read it word for word but showed us the book and then performed the tale while we hung on his every word and gesture.
The impact was great as the story was repeated by several of us at subsequent slumber parties.
Who would have thought that attending a sleepover would expose us all to classic literature?
Please share your favorite story from childhood.
Blessings from The Parlor!
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