I just watched Miss Potter.

As kids, my sister and I sometimes accompanied our mother to the college where she took classes for her master’s degree. My sister and I visited the library while Mom was in class. It was a strange but fun outing in my mind. Sometimes we were given change and permission to walk to the soda machine and buy a soda to share. What a treat! I guess my sister and I didn’t do much on our own, because this was a Big Deal to me.

In the library, my favorite books were the Beatrix Potter books, small, bright white, and within my reach–physically and intellectually. I always went for those books. No idea where my sister went.

Not very Peter-y, I’m afraid. This guy looks like he’s got an attitude, doesn’t he? He’s given up cigarettes, but still needs something in his mouth.

I’m pretty sure I read them, but I don’t remember the stories. What I remember is the size and color of the books. I loved how small and uniform, crisp and clean, white on the outside with bits of color on the inside.

Maybe I didn’t read them. Maybe I just held them and looked at the pictures.