Little House

today driving into work i was listening to this american life - one of my favorite pastimes in the car.  this episode was all about books that changed peoples lives, something very intriquing to this bookworm.  the final story was about a young lady who moved from nyc to nebraska - all because she wanted share experiences from her favorite books, the little house on the praire series.

my ears perked up immediately. like most girls in america, there was a time that i was addicted to these books.  it seems i read them all the time - until the covers ripped and fell off.  mom and dad read them so often to my brother and i that i think mom can still recite entire chapters from memory - all while dad made scary panther/indian/miscellaneous prairie noises. i played long winter as a small girl and as a budding teen became entranced with the love story.

i listened to the reporter talk about indepenence kansas, walnut creek minnesota, and de smet south dakota, and the ways these communities have preserved laura's legacy.  they hold plays,  maintain orignial structures, hold re-enactments of the events in laura's life.  when a woman talked about actually standing on the ingall's farmstead, looking across at the five cottonwood trees that pa planted for 'his girls' it hit me.

i drew in a quick breath of air, my hand flew to my mouth and tears filled my eyes. they were here. and not only that, they were real.  i've always known that intellectually, but because i was so removed from the time and the place they almost seemed like figments of my imagination - almost like they were mine.

yet like a ton of bricks i understood that the stories were true, really true.  all the horrible things (and the wonderful ones) that they experienced happened.  and happened not too far from me.

the reality of that has thrown my whole day into flux.

now i'll have to start the books all over again.  :)