WHAT I TREASURE

My great grandfather’s gift by Elizabeth Barker

Itreasure a book. Not very original, I know. But it is not just the story I treasure, it is the book’s history, too. This book was given to my grandmother by her father, and in turn given to me by my grandmother. Sometimes I open the hard, aged cover just to see the inscription inside. The message my great grandfather wrote to his teenage daughter, ‘From Daddy to Sheila, Christmas 1951’. In some ways it doesn’t say much, in some ways it says a lot. She was a daddy’s girl and he loved his only daughter.

I still remember first finding this book (it's Jalna by Mazo De La Roche). I was with my grandma and found this on her book shelf. I was struck by it in that first moment, and I am every time I look at it. Part of my fascination with the book is because, in my early teens, it was the first time I had ever thought of my grandmother as having once been a child. Of the fact she was once looked after, the same way she then looked after me.

The story in this book and the series it comes from is simple; it follows a family through generations. The first story follows a young newly married couple. The main character is a strong red-headed young woman. Just as my grandmother was, and as I am trying to be. I have the hair at least. I think this was another reason I loved the book as a teenager. It was the first book I read with a red-head as the main character, there was something important in that. The books follow the ups and downs of family life. Births, weddings, deaths, moments of sadness and moments of joy, the moments every family goes through.

It is not the only book of the series I now own. There are some with notes from my great grandfather, others with my grandmother’s writing on the first page, and others I have found to try to fill the series. I read this book at least once a year.

Nearly 67 years ago, this book was shiny and brand new, carefully wrapped and given with love by a man to his daughter. Now, as it sits on my lap, it has the scent all old books seem to get and the corners are softened from the countless times they have been turned. It is still loved. And it is still all about family, both its storyline and its provenance.

My grandmother passed away a few years ago, but every time I hold this book in my hand, she feels close. This is why I treasure it, and why I always will.

What means a lot to you? Tell us in 500 words; thesimplethings@icebergpress.co.uk.