The Book That Stayed With Me

There are plenty of books I remember from childhood — the bright ones, the funny ones, the ones everyone seemed to read at the same time. But the one that lingers in my mind, even now, is Number the Stars by Lois Lowry.

I don’t remember exactly how old I was when I first read it. I do remember the shift it created in me. It was one of the first times I realized that a story could feel heavy in your hands. That words on a page could introduce you to fear, bravery, injustice, and sacrifice — all before you were old enough to fully understand them.

At the time, I couldn’t have explained the historical magnitude of World War II. I didn’t grasp the scope of what I was reading. But I understood the human parts. Friendship. Loyalty. The quiet courage of doing the right thing even when it’s dangerous.

Looking back, I can see how much that book shaped my relationship with history. It taught me that history isn’t just timelines and textbooks — it’s lived experiences. It’s families making impossible choices. It’s ordinary people standing in extraordinary moments. It made the past feel close enough to care about.

That awareness followed me into adulthood. My love of historical places, religious landmarks, old cities layered with centuries of meaning — all of it traces back to that early realization that stories live inside history, and history lives inside people.

Some books entertain you. Some teach you. And some quietly change the way you see the world.

Number the Stars didn’t just tell me about the past — it taught me how to listen for it.