Sticky photos of me with blonde bangs and over-worn princess dresses are the only way I know for sure I had a childhood. Attempting to actually recount the occurrences behind these still-frames is the real challenge. It’s like glimpses of memories that you’re pretty sure are memories, but could also be dreams that you had in a sugar-induced coma. Of the moments I do remember, here are some highlights: the time I tried to eat an entire corn dog without chewing (which ended about how you’d expect), when I caught my father red-handed in a tooth-for-money exchange underneath my pillow, but most distinctly, I remember the sound of my mom’s voice as she read my favorite books. I probably heard Goodnight Moon and The Giving Tree so often I could have recited them alongside her. When I look back at what began my love of the written word, there’s a direct correlation to the feel of the pages of an Eric Carle or Shel Silverstein book. The stories I grew up with will probably always kick around upstairs while “essential” math equations just tend to slip away. It’s strange to think back at all the books that I can recall, but not what exactly happened during my recorder concerts at Ellis Elementary. It’s probably for the best. From then on, my literary career was off to the races as I was usually pretty ahead of my classes when it came to …show more content…
Jane Eyre, obviously, is still on that list. Emma by Jane Austen is as well- even though the first couple of chapters were like pulling teeth- because I owe it to my two favorite web series of all time (YouTube web series based on modern interpretations of Jane Austen’s Emma and Pride and Prejudice may sound nerdy to marathon over and over again, and that's because it for sure is). I also really want to finish 1984 this year because I picked it up during my reading drought a few months ago and never