Remember when I wrote about my odd, embarrassing obsession with Christopher Pike when I was a teenager?
Because I’m, like, growing up and shit, but more because I’m moving across the country at the end of this summer, I sold almost my entire Pike collection.
This was the right move.
Yet I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret as the kid who responded to my ad pulled a five dollar bill out of his wallet, took the box full of books from me, and walked away, all with an exchange of less than 10 words. It would have been ridiculous for me to haul that box across the country with me, but at the same time, how do you say goodbye to a book?
Part of me wanted to interrogate the kid – make sure he would be a decent foster parent.
Care to share your own rites of passage? The wonderful, the maudlin, the bittersweet – all are welcome!