Holiday in Summary and a Return to Boston

Posted January 10, 2015 by Samantha Quiñon

This year was my first Christmas at my family’s home in Florida while in library school. Holidays are about more than gifts, but I am going to talk about them anyway, because I was surprised by how many were book-themed. There were book ornaments, books drawn on PJs, book-print socks, a mug with lines from famous books, actual books (of course), and more.

It’s strange having this new identity, which I don’t mind, but it’s definitely odd. I’m the same person I’ve always been. I’ve always loved books. No one gave me anything book-related when I majored in English literature for my undergraduate degree, and that actually had a lot more to do with books. I guess people are always happy to find another way to relate to someone as a way of showing love and support, and libraries and books are something everyone understands and has experienced. Beyond being slightly puzzled, I’m grateful that my family seems genuinely happy to see me start a new part of my life and cares enough to bond with me by finding out more about how I spend my time.

On another note, I got some pretty unintentionally funny gifts. My mom got me pepper spray and a Taser. And two aunts and my grandparents got me hand-warmers (which is all the more amusing because someone else in the family sent me two boxes of two hundred warmers earlier in the year). Clearly, Boston is a dangerous and cold place. Seriously though, I’m lucky my Florida folks look out for me. I miss them already, and it’s only been a week since I returned to Massachusetts. I guess I’ll have to rope some of them into going to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter with me when I graduate later this year, so we can be reunited over butter beer and fictional characters. I don’t think the beer is alcoholic though, but my family doesn’t read this blog, and I won’t tell them if you won’t.

I’d like to add that I’m still waiting for other books to be made into theme park lands or rides, but I don’t think anyone else really understands my vision of, say, The Depressing World of Jane Eyre (complete with a creepy Thornfield Hall) or Anne of Green Gables’s Village of Avonlea (serving raspberry cordial, of course). A girl can dream.