children’s books. we have all read hundreds, even written a few (unless you’re like me and you wrote an entire 11 book long series is elementary school). they are fun and colorful and are really one of the very first and pivotal steps of our education, however do they really serve a purpose besides putting a baby to sleep or teaching a child to read?
when someone who does not fully understand children looks upon the four by four, cardboard cover attached to the book “Jamberry”only by a piece scotch tape, they must think that I absolutely hated the book so I tore it up. however, someone who understands children and their tendencies would see countless page turnings, numerous nights when I fell asleep with the book in arms, and tons of times the pages soaked up my tears. you see, I never like the book because of the lesson I learned or because I especially liked a character, I liked it because when I saw the mountains of strawberries I could practically taste the sour red meat of the strawberries themselves (I without a doubt licked the pages in search of the mouthwatering taste). I enjoyed having the book read to me because I thought it sounded “silly” when words rhymed. I took so much pleasure in reading it because I could show my grandpa how well I could read while I sat next to him in his spare wheelchair (even though I just had the words memorized). I would giggle excessively whenever my dad would quote a page and I would finish the rhyme, it was like our own little language. just sitting here writing about the book I already feel less stressed and more lighthearted. unfortunately simple reminiscing on old happy memories does not bring back the simple times of learning the alphabet and how to say “ballerina” correctly. this is why I love “Jamberry”, because reading those few sentence fragments that rhyme helps me escape the stress and pressure of highschool for a few minutes, and I don’t always get the chance to escape.
this small, beaten up, soiled book serves as a portal back in time to simplicity and happiness. it is for this reason I find myself reading it in the middle of the night when I hit a wall of stress. but now marks the time that I must return to the real world, the very real world of sleep, physics tests, and English timed writings (yikes). but you never know, I may dream of “dancing in meadows of strawberry jam”.
bruhhhhh 