I wanted to re-read A Wrinkle in Time before I saw the new movie. I pulled my copy off the bookshelf. It is so old that the pages fell out. I bought it used somewhere. Garage sale? Used book store? I don’t remember where I got it for the bargain price of fifty cents. It has someone else’s name written on the title page in large, child-like letters. I wonder who that little girl is. I feel connected to her through the sharing of this wonderful book. How could she let it go? I’m glad she did, so it could be mine for these many years. I refuse to accept that she is an adult now.
I bought a new copy–full price from a local, independent bookstore. If I can bring myself to let go of it (if ever), I’ll put it into the Little Free Library in my neighborhood. Then others can read it until the pages fall out of it, too.