One of my greatest joys as a parent (or perhaps as a mother) has been reading the “Little House” series of books aloud to my children. I treasure this simpler, hearty, stolid, stalwart pioneer perspective, retold with beautifully descriptive detail, sense memories, and images which bring each scene not just to mind, but to life, as if we were guests in Ma’s front room, standing on the braided rag rug…
My most cherished appreciation of the “Little House” books is the living record Laura leaves of her precious childhood. What a gift to preserve this specific memories, chiseled into time’s granite walls, for her legacy and the love and fascination of countless others and generations. Her words and scenic descriptions denotes and honors without glorifying such a simpler, specific time in our American History, making her work personally and historically significant (perhaps vital!!) In that same spirit, after sharing the most recent chapter in “Little Town on the Prairie” with my eight year old, I commenced to reflect upon the myriad memories I have of my childhood, and how delighted my children would and will be to have this living records
Episode One: Earliest memory
Believe it or not, my first memory is of lying in my crib
Go Fourth 