Children’s books are more than stories—they are portals into ideas and ways of being. We share books that attempt to answer life’s hardest questions in words simple enough for a child, and contemplative enough for the adult. Through enchanted language, wild imagination, and mesmerizing art, these books take both of you on a journey of dreams, friendship, and loss.
“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.”
— C.S. Lewis
We meet a child with an impossible dream of touching the sun. A dream so vast and unthinkable, it almost feels like a metaphor for every dream we’ve ever been told to let go of. But the boy doesn’t doubt himself. He doesn’t ask for permission. He simply follows his longing. And isn’t that how all meaningful dreams begin—not with certainty, but with a quiet flame inside that refuses to be put out?
Anna wonders what it feels like to live in one place—to have a room that waits for you, a bicycle that is truly your own. Immigrants rarely taste the sweetness of rooting or belonging; their feet are always moving, their hearts always half-packed. In the store for the poor, others’ eyes remind Anna that she is less than those who can claim the land beneath their feet. Yet in her imagination, she finds refuge—turning hardship into wonder, and displacement into a quiet kind of magic.
A boy spends his days in the garden with his grandfather, who cannot read or write, yet teaches what no book can hold. Luis, a survivor of war and exile, becomes a living bridge of wisdom — carrying culture across loss and migration. For in the end, what matters most is not knowledge alone, but the connection through which it is shared.
How can someone disappear while their scent still lingers? How can we stamp their name on mail, greet their friends, spend the day in their room—while they are gone, fully and completely, with no return? A boy begins to sense his grandfather’s absence as if he were evaporating from the fabric of life. Yet as he drifts between memory and imagination, he slowly rebuilds him—this time not in the world of things, but in the vast universe, the place he must have come from.