fIrSt BoOk Of SuMmEr
I don't know if I would have picked this up on my own.
My 12-year-old brought Three Little Words home from her school's book fair.
She devoured it, and said I'd like it.
(She also paid for it with her own money, and wondered, if I liked it, would I pay half?)
I think it was easy for me to connect with the author and central figure of this shocking tale, since I grew up in a home that took in more than 50 foster children over the course of about 25 or 30 years. We were the loving home that attempted to provide stability.
We all tried to make up for sad, damaged backgrounds with fun, friendship and family.
The things that happened in this personal memoir were mostly from the foster homes that were the extreme opposite experience of what I would hope anyone signed up to provide foster care would supply.
It was not an easy read, but without spoiling anything, the happy parts do come.
Sort of an Erin Brockovich meets the Foster Care System.
I liked it.
It made me cry.
I'm glad it's over.
Today I sprung for some cute summer sandals that my read-racer daughter had her eyes on.
That was my half.