| Biographical Fiction posted July 24, 2023 | Chapters: |
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A favorite memory
A chapter in the book Short Stories
Books and Tea Parties
by Michelle D. Carr
Now I understand my unfulfilled desire to own and operate a used bookstore and tea shop. The first home I remember with any clarity was actually my fifth home since my birth and where I lived from the age of seven until my sixteenth year. It was a two-story home with a finished basement apartment and an unfinished attic. Even though there were seven of us, my mother, who was the financial brain of the family, decided to rent the basement to pay the mortgage. This created a need for escape and my safe place was the attic.
Being the oldest, I valued alone time so I found refuge there. One of my parents' actor friends was going on tour and so, as a favor to him, they stored his several boxes of books there. By this time I had come to feel that it was my attic. I don’t remember anyone ever going up there except for me. I liked that!
For several years I spent hours alone with those books. It didn’t matter that they were above my reading level. I read anyway. There were biographies of famous actors and dancers like Maria Tallchief, the prima ballerina and the Broadway greats. It was through those treasure-filled boxes that I was introduced to John Steinbeck and Longfellow.
However, I was not really alone. To me the books were like people. I also had an imaginary friend. He was a quiet and smiling man and he would allow me to serve him imaginary tea and cookies while I talked and he listened. Sometimes I would not speak and we would both just sit and enjoy our imaginary food. In the attic, I found the blending of all that I loved most. Privacy, interesting books, and the nicest imaginary friend for which anyone could hope. When I was very young, I thought that everyone had a friend like this but I never asked anyone because it was private. This was my secret. Little did I know that, as an adult, I would also spend time in quiet contemplation with this same friend. The wonderful thing about this friend is that He is not imaginary, although not visible to my physical eyes. My spiritual eyes discern that He is with me…even when I'm drinking tea and reading books.
Non-Fiction Writing Contest contest entry
Now I understand my unfulfilled desire to own and operate a used bookstore and tea shop. The first home I remember with any clarity was actually my fifth home since my birth and where I lived from the age of seven until my sixteenth year. It was a two-story home with a finished basement apartment and an unfinished attic. Even though there were seven of us, my mother, who was the financial brain of the family, decided to rent the basement to pay the mortgage. This created a need for escape and my safe place was the attic.
Being the oldest, I valued alone time so I found refuge there. One of my parents' actor friends was going on tour and so, as a favor to him, they stored his several boxes of books there. By this time I had come to feel that it was my attic. I don’t remember anyone ever going up there except for me. I liked that!
For several years I spent hours alone with those books. It didn’t matter that they were above my reading level. I read anyway. There were biographies of famous actors and dancers like Maria Tallchief, the prima ballerina and the Broadway greats. It was through those treasure-filled boxes that I was introduced to John Steinbeck and Longfellow.
However, I was not really alone. To me the books were like people. I also had an imaginary friend. He was a quiet and smiling man and he would allow me to serve him imaginary tea and cookies while I talked and he listened. Sometimes I would not speak and we would both just sit and enjoy our imaginary food. In the attic, I found the blending of all that I loved most. Privacy, interesting books, and the nicest imaginary friend for which anyone could hope. When I was very young, I thought that everyone had a friend like this but I never asked anyone because it was private. This was my secret. Little did I know that, as an adult, I would also spend time in quiet contemplation with this same friend. The wonderful thing about this friend is that He is not imaginary, although not visible to my physical eyes. My spiritual eyes discern that He is with me…even when I'm drinking tea and reading books.
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