My body may be stuck in traffic congestion, but my imagination was absorbed by the wilderness of 19 th century North America. On afternoons after school, I would devour them inside an air-conditioned car braving the notorious Jakarta traffic to get home. I remember loving the books as Grandma R hoped. Sometimes, you live in the things you leave behind. Sometimes items outlive us, often they are less fleeting than memories. They are now my most tangible connections to her. Most of all, I treasure these 4 Little House books. I treasure the remaining memories I have of her: how she wore pastel chunky sweaters, how she baked sugar cookies for me and my brother and my cousins using Pillsbury dough (is there a more American brand?), and how she loved collecting lighthouse-related paraphernalia from paintings to figurines. I did not see her often and she has now sadly passed away. I remember Grandma R saying that she loved the books as a little girl and hoped I would too. I had zero life as a young girl: all I did was study, read, and write in diaries. She must have chosen them because my aunt told her I was a little bookworm.

During a visit when everyone converged (probably a Christmas holiday), Grandma R gave me the books. Grandma R would visit my aunt and uncle’s Washington home too. I remember going Halloween trick-or-treating one year. These visits exposed me to elements of American culture I wouldn’t have access to otherwise. My cousins were raised in Washington state and my family would visit as I was growing up. My aunt married an American and they settled near Seattle for many years. Little House in the Big Woods and 3 subsequent books from the series were gifted to me by my aunt’s mother-in-law (whom I shall call Grandma R) when I was a young girl spending her holidays in Seattle.

I am deeply attached to my copy and will keep it as long as I can. Whenever I turn the pages of my Little House in the Big Woods, they make a concerning creaking noise so I was dainty in reading as I didn’t want the book to fall apart (and yet I still chipped that edge. The fabric tape with “Book #1” written on it remains sturdy to this day though. Look! I chipped the lower left edge of its back cover. It has begun to smell like something on my grandfather’s shelves, which are stocked with titles from the 60s and 70s. The pages of my copy have the yellow-brown tint of vintage (cough, old) books. I can’t remember exactly how long I’ve had it. My copy of Little House in the Big Woods may be 20 years old now.

House in the big woods