It used to be something I hardly ever did. I didn't care to relive things from my past, unless they were stellar events...like anything related to the Jersey shore, having my babies, meeting my husband.
Those kind of things...good things.
Then, there were bad things...you know, those things you did or saw or thought that were far less than stellar. These are the things you wish to forget. Funerals. Diseases. Losses of most kinds. Lies you may have believed and even told. Those are easy to sweep under the mental rug.
And then there are these little things that creep into your brain that you sort of remember but can't quite remember all the way. These are the things that drift through your mind and anger you or shame you or make you smile.
Several weeks ago, I remembered a story I had read almost sixty years ago and wished I could read again.
Problem. While the library where I first found this book has probably tossed it because it is OLD, the library still exists. My fond memories of the building remain, but it doesn't even smell the same. I was there a few years ago and that sweet musty book smell has been replaced by the air cleaning system. It only smells like a public building, not the place to dwell on stories of one's youth.
But I kept thinking about two books. One, Copper's Chance, was a preteen love story with horses. I found that on Amazon...it is available. Eh. I read adult love stories all the time and while this book was probably my first ever romance--with horses--I didn't want to shell out big bucks to get it.
Then I wanted to search for this second book, only I didn't know the author and didn't know the title. I couldn't even remember the main character's name. All I remembered was that she was a fat little girl that people made fun of, she had a best friend who was her foil because she wasn't smart and she went looking for an "old salt", whatever that was.
I put my quest out on FB...did anybody remember this story?
No. Several ideas where to look, but nobody remembered this story in particular.
Miracles do sometimes happen.
While in my reading room, a name popped into my head, drawn from the depths of my 9 year old memory. Was it the title? Was it the character?
Off to Amazon.
There is was. Rowena Carey. The name that I'd remembered, the title of the book.
I ordered it.
It arrived a couple of days ago and last night I read a chapter.
Just as sweet and powerful and wonderful as I remembered.
It's odd being a nine year old girl in a sixty seven year old body, but, well, it was great!