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The lights in the bedroom are out, and three small girls are curled up in their beds. Perhaps the youngest is already asleep. Light from the hallway illuminates the corner by the door, where my mother sits bent over our current bedtime book. I first encountered many of my favorite stories this way; 'The Secret Garden', 'A Wrinkle in Time', 'Sleeping Ugly', and many others. The warm, comfortable feeling of those evenings still lingers every time I revisit those old friends.

Revisiting the stories of our childhood gives us a rare glimpse at the child we were. The five-year-old laboriously picking out the words of 'The Pokey Little Puppy' is all but lost to me, but those beloved pictures bring her back for a little while. I first read 'The Hobbit' in a Maui hotel room, and for me Bilbo's adventures are linked indelibly to the smell of plumerias, the sun, the sand, and the inevitable comments about a girl who would rather read a book than be out enjoying all of those wonderful things. I read 'The Swiss Family Robinson' under the covers with a flashlight, blissfully unaware that my parents knew all about it, and I can still summon a little righteous anger at Disney for erasing one whole child from the movie. I must have brought it up every time we went to Disneyland. I bless my parents for their patience.

Rereading a beloved childhood favorite gives us permission to put aside our cynicism for a while. Were I to read 'A Little Princess' for the first time today, I would probably sneer in disbelief at the simple good-heartedness of the heroine. Fortunately, the story is linked to a part of my life when I wasn't so hardened, and the message of kindness in the face of adversity sneaks in under my grown-up radar.

Much of what is written for children is drivel, as many authors seem to think that discernment is something that happens with age. Some seem to believe that a young reader will simply read whatever is put in front of them. In fairness, there is some truth to it; I happily read some books in elementary school that I wouldn't use to level washing machines today. The stories that linger, though, are magic. Go to the bookstore, or the library, and browse the children's section. Don't feel embarrassed, some people do it all the time. If you neet to, pretend you are selecting books for a niece or nephew. Something will jump out at you, saying "Remember me? How I comforted you, moved you, made you think?" Take that book home with you, curl up with it and a hot cocoa, and enjoy the chance to be a child again.

Learn more about this author, Muriah Summer.
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