Pssst! Kimber here. Being all magnificent and everything. Telling you that today, one of my favorite people turns 100 years old! What? Well, okay. Maybe not One. Hundred. Maybe just “older than dirt.”

Anyway, I thought I’d mark this auspicious occasion by sharing a post by Her Momness from 2014. You know. About 100 years ago. Wait. Where was I? Oh yeah. The post is called “Like Coming Home.” It’s about growing up as a voracious reader and book lover.

You don’t want to miss this. Cuz it’s really, really good. (Maybe not as a good as a nice, thick T-bone steak. Nobody’s perfect.)

Anyway, it goes like this:

I was born in a library.

Naw. Not really.  But I could’ve been.

I grew up in a household groaning with books. In fact, books prominently populate my earliest memories. Lots and lots of books.  Enough to fill a library several times over.

I remember snuggling into Dad’s lap as he read aloud about a little monkey and a man in a yellow hat.  I remember Mom reading and re-reading a perennial favorite, Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel. Also stories about a runaway bunny. Ferdinand the bull.  Green eggs and ham.  A secret garden.  A spider weaving webbed words. Neverland. Karana and Rontu. Stuart Little. Number Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane. Cinderella. Edmund Dantes. Lucie Manette. Davy Balfour and Dorothy Gale. Elsa the lioness. Aesop and the Brothers Grimm. So many others. …

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