Books From My Childhood

There are certain books that don't just sit on a shelf that they stay with you. For me, stories like Anne of Green Gables and The Chronicles of Narnia aren't just childhood reads. They're pieces of who I was... and, in a lot of ways, still am.

When I flip through those pages now, I don't just see Anne with her wild imagination or children stepping through a wardrobe into another world. I see the girl I used to be, dreaming big, feeling deeply, believing there was always something more just beyond what I could see. Anne taught me it was okay to be a little dramatic, a little different, a little too much. That imagination wasn't something to grow out of, it was something to hold onto. And Narnia? That was possibility. That was wonder. That quiet hope that even ordinary kids could step into something extraordinary.

Now, as I get older, I find myself watching the kids around me and I see glimpses of that same magic. The way they believe. The way they create whole worlds out of nothing. The way they feel everything so fully. And it makes me realize something I didn't understand back then. We don't lose that part of ourselves. We just get busy.

Those old books? They pull us back. They remind us of who we were before the world told us to be practical, to be realistic, to grow up. But maybe growing up doesn't have to mean letting go. Maybe it looks like carrying Anne's imagination into our everyday lives. Maybe it looks like still believing (just a little) that there are wardrobes somewhere waiting to be opened.

So I'll keep going back to those stories. Not just for nostalgia, but for connection. Because every time I do, I find her again, that younger version of me, still dreaming, still hoping, still believing. And honestly? I think she's worth holding onto.