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conuly1. An address book we gave to my mother several years ago (my father signed its cover), never used. I burst into laughter at this, as, despite her claims to the contrary, my mother never uses presents we get her. EVER. Here's the proof it's always been that way!
2. A box of photos, many of which still in good shape, all of which prove that I was an incredibly awkward child. Even after years of weekly dance lessons, I never was able to pose in a natural looking picture. I always had my head, my hands, my feet, or all of the above at some weird and funny angle.
3. A birthday card sent from us to my mother one year in Belgium. My signature says, and I quote: "Happy birthday, Mommy! I (as you know) love you! Connie". Except I wrote my name upside down. Here, again, is proof of something I've suspected for ages: even as a child, I was a pedantic brat.
4. A photograph of our room in our grandparents' house in Belgium. Under the bed are scattered a suitcase worth of books. Much of the rest of the day today has been spent carefully stacking the books on the shelves. Yes, stacking - it's the only way they fit! Truly, nothing at all has changed for any of us in the intervening few decades. It's all about the books. I remember the careful shopping sprees so we'd have enough books to last us two months in Belgium, and we'd finish about half before we even got off the plane.
2. A box of photos, many of which still in good shape, all of which prove that I was an incredibly awkward child. Even after years of weekly dance lessons, I never was able to pose in a natural looking picture. I always had my head, my hands, my feet, or all of the above at some weird and funny angle.
3. A birthday card sent from us to my mother one year in Belgium. My signature says, and I quote: "Happy birthday, Mommy! I (as you know) love you! Connie". Except I wrote my name upside down. Here, again, is proof of something I've suspected for ages: even as a child, I was a pedantic brat.
4. A photograph of our room in our grandparents' house in Belgium. Under the bed are scattered a suitcase worth of books. Much of the rest of the day today has been spent carefully stacking the books on the shelves. Yes, stacking - it's the only way they fit! Truly, nothing at all has changed for any of us in the intervening few decades. It's all about the books. I remember the careful shopping sprees so we'd have enough books to last us two months in Belgium, and we'd finish about half before we even got off the plane.
