The Great Plane Crash
Sean London
language
(My Young Author, April 5, 2013)
A few years before my mother passed away, she sent me a box full of all of the things she had collected about me. Mostly pictures, report cards, stuff like that. But included in the box was a book I had apparently written when I was 11 as part of a school project. I have no memory of writing this book as the decades worth of school projects have blended together in a blob of memory called "school". But out of all the projects I've worked on, this one she kept. Through all the moves and trials of life, she kept this one book. It isn't well written (and I like to think that I've improved somewhat both in my writing skill and my general naivete about the world), but it meant something to her. It has sat on my shelf for years, that little book my so very young, naive self wrote, and every time I see it I keep thinking how my mom treasured it. And that fact, that sentiment, has made it increasingly important to me, especially as I watch my own children grow. And so I publish it, unedited and as faithful to the original as I can make it. I publish it in honor of my mom's love for me and those silly things I created. I do this for you Mom, may you rest in peace.