My copy of Robert Frost’s poetry

My husband listens to me. I acknowledge that I am truly blessed with such a man. Our first Christmas together, (dating, not married), he gave me a book of the complete collection of Robert Frost because he remembered that in Sunday School years before we ever dated I said Frost was one poet that I actually liked.

One year, after marriage, in my stocking was a chocolate orange because he remembered that I said we often got oranges and chocolate in our stockings when we were growing up.

And this year, I got four more Trixie Belden books.

The goal is for me to have the whole series. I have through number 15 now (and an outlier, #29).

Trixie Belden books were my favorite as a young girl. When we went to the library I would get as many as I was allowed to check out. They weren’t kept on the main floor of the children’s room, but behind the door of the storage room. I can see it in my head. . .having to take a left after going in the children’s area. The children’s room librarian even came to the point of just waving me into the room instead of asking me which ones I needed. I see young me standing there behind the door picking the next three.

I wanted to be like Trixie and Honey and have my own club like the Bob-Whites with a club house. I wanted to solve mysteries and go on adventures. I wanted to like horses, but I just didn’t really. I hoped bicycles would be a good substitute.

My Trixie Belden collection, minus the four I received yesterday. . .they’re in the bedroom waiting to be read.

Steven knows all this. Cause he listens. He also knows that for my eleventh birthday I asked one of my uncles (who I shall not name to protect) for a Trixie Belden book. I received an autographed copy of Hiroshima Diary. A wonderful gift. . .but I was eleven. I’ve never quite gotten over it.

I find that even though I’m relatively sure that at least one of my gifts will be at least one more book for my collection, I’m super excited to get it. I’m also super excited to read it and remember the joy it brought me as a child. It brings me joy again, maybe in a bit of a different way. {I also find myself amused with some of the cultural things, namely gender roles, that have shifted over the years.} But I like reading them and remembering that little girl and her dreams. And seeing how she turned out and what kind of adventures she does get to have.

PS. Titling this post was super hard. . . .