My parents are moving house too, and asked if I wanted any of the old family children’s books. They gave me the most amazing pile of old books, mostly belonging to my mother and her three older brothers from the 1940s and 50s. The Secret Garden, with gorgeous swirling drawings, some classic Beatrix Potters, an old book of nursery rhymes.
Leafing through, the beautiful illustrations are oddly calming – definitely what I needed with The Big Move in 12 days. And then the occasional addition in bright blue crayon. Started to feel guilty that perhaps I had scribbled on them when I was little, but then found ‘Hugh’ clearly scrawled – an uncle who sadly died before I was born.
Find it quite comforting to think my own kids will make these little records too (just as long as they understand it’s not charming to scribble on walls… I’m sure our New York landlords would be unamused).