The Box Children, by Sharon Wyse.

Sometimes I come to places inside where it feels like a memory should be but instead there is just a hole, a place that feelings I am having right now can fall into.

I wonder what I will remember from now when I am old...

I hope I remember the smell that always comes right before rain. I don't know what makes it. It can't be the smell of water because once the rain starts, the smell stops. It can't be dirt or trees getting wet because they don't smell like that after the rain when they are still wet. I think it's the clouds, in teh moment when they are so heavy they have to let everything go. When I smell it I get hopeful.

I hope I remember rhow tornadoes churn and boil pinkish-green, then go black and take whatever they want.

I hope I remember the nights when there are so many stars that I could never count them all even if I started now and kept going until I'm too old to remember. My brother told me that some of them are so far away that by the time their light gets to me, the stars could be dead already. I wouldn't know it until years and years later. I'd be standing out here enjoying dead stars. Will it happen that one night a star I'm looking for will be gone because it died way before I was born? Or maybe it's a slower thing, just fading away little by little. I might not even notice.




I highly recommend this book. It was pretty sad, but it left you hopeful. The main character is vaguely reminiscent of the narrators of The Perks of Being a Wallflower and even The Catcher in the Rye, to a lesser extent.

I also just finished reading The Swiss Family Robinson. I recommend that, too... it's a little harder to get through because of the language, but it's a really truly charming book. I don't know if I've ever read anything that made me think "charming" and really mean it before.

I'm on the way to the day care... my last night, I believe, for this stint of subbing...