Written by Baby Rucelle Cogal
My grandma used to tell us that quote from Emily Dickinson, “There’s no frigate like a book.”
Indeed, it is true.
No other thing could take us to different places without actually travelling. From one book to another, we also jump from one universe to another, through the magic of every word.
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“Grandma, grandma, tell us a story again!”
“Another story!”
“Hmm, okay, okay. Let us all settle down, children.”
“Yey!”, we gleefully cheered.
Grandma picked up a picture book from the nearby shelf.
“Okay, so have you all read ‘Where the Wild Things Are’?”, grandma asked.
“Noooooo”, we all shook our heads as we answered in unison.
“It is about a young boy named Max who loved to wear a wolf costume and do naughty and bad things, so his parents decided to punish him.”
“Listen carefully okay?” grandma told us as she flipped the picture book to the first page.
“The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind...”, grandma read and flipped another page.
“Ooooh, look grandma, he’s a wolf!” one of my cousins pointed out as she looked at the picture.
Grandma smiles gently as she continues to the next pages.
“… his mother called him, “WILD THING! …”, she continues as we beam closer to her, listening while we stare at the picture book in front of us.
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I put the picture book back to the shelf. I cannot help but smile as I reminisce about the old days.
Back when we were younger, together with my cousins and brothers, we used to listen to grandma’s stories. It served as our precious family bonding moment. Sometimes she would read us different children’s
books, or she would tell us random stories about her childhood, or stories about her and grandpa.
But now, all those things were just memories – precious memories that we can only look back to.
Grandma’s gentle voice, the echoes of our laughter, how we circle around the living room, the shelf where Grandma keeps all sorts of books – everything seems like it's only yesterday.
But it wasn’t. Grandma peacefully went to heaven 9 years ago.
A lot of things have changed. We, the little kids Grandma used to tell stories, were all grown up now, taking different paths ahead of us. But I know how we all treasure those moments with Grandma.
The children’s books she used to read to us became the reason why I got into reading and why I decided to write children books myself.
For every story I’ve written, it always reminds me of that time with Grandma.
I remember Grandma telling us that magic does not just exist. We create them. We create our own magic. With our wild imagination and overflowing words, we can build our own kind of worlds. And with all those magical and fantastic worlds I’ve created through my stories and picture books, I hope I was able to make at least one child smile in every “The End" I wrote.
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