Books

It has been ages since I visited the library. I finally went, after over a year, this past weekend. On a walk with Jasper we visited the children section and while I scanned all the books, Jasper played on the computer specifically there for kids. I checked out 5 books, but could have checked out more. I love the library. I look forward to going back. Later, I told my mom of our adventure and she said that some our my books from when I was little were in storage in my Aunt's basement. The next day, while we were there visiting my Uncle up from Pensacola, I headed down to see what I could find. I brought home 10 books. Most of them I remembered very well.

Inscribed in one of them were the words, "To Soheireh, love, Mom" in calligraphy. My mom doesn't write in calligraphy. My mom didn't give me that book. It was jolting to see this inscription, because for over 20 years, the woman that gave me that book has not been my mom. She was my step-mom. And it took me awhile to get out of the habit of calling her mom once she and my father divorced. It is strange to me to think of how entwined my life was with hers and her children, my step-sisters, and how completely uninvolved we are now, save for an occasional look-see at my younger step-sister's FB page. That kind of hurt used to feel more familiar to me. I recognized it after break-ups with boys when I thought, "how can there be nothing when we were so close?" The disappointment. The anger. The sadness. The forgetting.

Anyway, it inspired me to google my older stepsister, just to see. I was surprised at how much came up. She's published. She teaches at a prestigious Ivy League school. She uses words that require me to use a dictionary. I don't remember he that well anymore. She was better friends with my sister. The younger one's a lawyer. If I compare myself to them, I am a nothing...google me and really nothing exemplary emerges. I am invisible. Which, is actually how I often felt growing up with them. They were always in the advanced classes. They were praised for their singing voices and musical talents. They got a lot of new clothes each school year. I got hand-me-downs. They called my dad, Richard. I called their mom, Mom. Not because I chose too. I googled my step-mother too, but nothing came up.

Now, I am reading all these books to Jasper, but the one from my step mom I'll set aside for when he's older. I'll read it again first to see if I even still like it. My son loves all of the new books, though the library books seem to be preferred. Especially "The Carrot Seed" and "Bedtime for Frances." When I was my son's age, my parents were still married. I don't remember what that was like, but I look forward to finding out what it's like for him.