Before I went to bed last night, as I was brushing my teeth, I saw this little bottle of perfume on the dresser. It's purple, wild violet scented. It reminds me of when I was little. I think I got it for my sixth birthday. I don't even remember who gave it to me, but I remember that I loved it. I haven't used it in years, because I don't want it to run out. I want to remember the smell. It's silly, but it brings back memories.
By the time I was ready for bed, it was about 11 at night. It's Friday. I probably should've gone to bed. But I didn't. I don't know why. I was really tired. Instead, I started going around the house looking for books that I remember being read to me when I was really little. Don't ask me why, because I don't know. I tried to be quiet because all my little siblings were asleep. I couldn't find "The Country Mouse and the City Mouse" or "The Velveteen Rabbit," but I did find these:
"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" by Iza Trapani
"Frog and Toad" by Arnold Lobel
"The Giving Tree" by Shel Silverstein
"The Mouse Who Wanted to Marry" by Doris Orgel
"Commotion in the Ocean" by Giles Andreae
"Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak
"Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch
I gathered them all together on my bed and I turned on the lamp, and I read them. Some of them I read cover to cover, and some of them I just looked at the pictures and smiled.
I picked up the last one, "Love You Forever" and I stared at the cover for a long time. I remembered this one the most.
I began to read. The story is about a mother who loves her baby son very much. As the little boy gets older, every night his mom still sings him this song when he's alseep:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be.
I read every word and looked at all the pictures and thought of my mom and my dad. My mom used to read me this book over and over. It's such a little tiny thing but I'm so grateful she did.
When I got to page 24, when the mother is old, and tries to sing it to her son who's all grown up now, I surprised myself.
I started to cry.
I turn the page, and I'm at the part where the grown up boy cradles his mom in his arms and sings her the song. I'm sobbing now.
I finished the book, and I just laid in my bed and cried. I don't know why. Sometimes people cry when they're sad. Sometimes people cry when they're happy. Sometimes people cry for no reason. Especially girls. I don't know what reason I was crying for, but I promised myself that I would read that book to my kid every night when I have one, and then when they grow up, I'm going to give it to them.
My parents probably have no idea how much that book means to me, or that bottle of perfume, or eating graham crackers with peanut butter and milk, or Dad reading The Alchemist to us every summer, or his soundtrack by a Spanish singer named Laura Pausini he plays in the living room stereo every so often. All of them just give me a warm nostalgic feeling.
I pulled myself together, took my contacts out, laid in bed for a while. I thought about memories, and how special they are. I thought about my family, and I thought about the rest of my life. Then I turned out the lamp and fell asleep to my dad's Spanish CD.
