This weekend is the annual Thankfully Reading Challenge. Er, I'm going to assume it's annual even though this is the first time that I've participated. I couldn't really resist as the requirements are purty easy - read books this weekend, no pressure, just enjoy. Figuring that the best form of relaxation for me *is* reading, what a great challenge to credit for my downtime in between weekend errands. (Is it just me or is everyone else less productive after Thanksgiving, even though this time of year mandates more productivity?)
Jenn over at Jenn's Bookshelves asked the question:
Thanksgiving is all about being thankful for the things we have. So, for the first Thankfully Reading Weekend, write a post about the book you are most thankful for. This could be a book released this year or twenty years ago. Your post should include why you are thankful for that book.
Immediately after reading the question the image of The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. I adored this book as a young girl. I have vague recollections of the first time it being read out loud to me by a teacher when I was maybe three or four years old.
As I grew older my love for The Giving Tree changed; the book took on a deeper and more personal meaning. I struggled with emotions, especially anger toward the young boy growing older. It bothered me so much that the boy was so selfish. The tree, once so beautiful, slowly grew weaker by years of giving a piece of herself for the young boy.
Around the time I turned eighteen and began officially taking care of myself, I saw how synonymous The Giving Tree
was (is) to my relationship with my mom. Through a tumultuous childhood , my mother was always my protector, always my giver, always putting my personal needs above hers. In my selfishness of childhood ignorance it never occurred to me to even say thank you.
Christmas season that year, I purchased a copy of The Giving Tree. I found pictures of my mom and me from when I was young until what was then present time and pasted them throughout the book. I aged with the boy in the book.
My mom still has the book. I found it a couple of years ago while going through the back room helping her clean out some stuff. I have to admit, after reading the words I wrote to her over ten years ago brought tears to my eyes. Tears because I remembered once again vividly all that she did for me and how I still don't say thank you enough.