I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love books.
The joy of visiting the public library with my mom and the thrill of my classroom’s weekly trip to the school library. I spent many glorious hours just reading, being absorbed in the story.
The best, the absolute best, gifts that I can remember getting when I was growing up were books. Carefully opening up the giftwrap and taking in the sheer loveliness of the cover. Opening the books for the first time knowing that the book was all mine. The new book smell. The simple joy of a brand new, never-read-before book!
Some book memories –
- One Easter when I was a little girl, my brother got little gifts for his sisters (my brother is blessed with three sisters, no brothers!). He went around the house finding where the Easter Bunny had hidden our baskets to add our little gifts. Mine was a Little Golden Book.
- I still have the book of Raggedy Ann Stories that my oldest sister read to me. I read it to my daughter when she was little and hope to someday read it to my granddaughter.
- My sixth grade teacher introduced me to the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder, thus starting a lifelong
- My next oldest sister (I’m the baby of the family), my mom, and I all became addicted to Jean Auel’s Earth’s Children book series many years ago. We had to wait something like 10 years for the last book to come out. I had to re-read all of the books because it had been so long. It did disappoint.
- The last book I finished was A Week in Winter which was the final book by Maeve Binchy. My sister-in-law introduced me to the joy of reading Maeve Binchy. I’m so sad that there will be no more…
- All of the Francis books by Russell Hoban and Lillian Hoban were my daughter’s favorite books to have read to her. She only just liked the Little House books, but does love good literature so I’ve learned to accept it. I can’t argue with Shakespeare and Harper Lee.
- My son is not a reader, which is sad. He takes after his dad. He did love to be read to though. His favorite was Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. I had to read it to him every night for a very long time. He love Arthur (the aardvark) by Marc Brown too. Both the books and the PBS show.
- One thing that my husband and son have taught me: not being a reader does not mean you are any less smart because they are the two smartest men that I know. I’m sad for what I think they must miss, but they are successful in what they do so I’m very proud.
- I read The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty. I think it was my sister’s book and I was too young to be reading it. My mom caught me and told me that I shouldn’t be reading it. She didn’t take it away and I later wished that she had.
- Reading is not as easy for me as I’ve gotten older. I blame it on having to wear glasses, specifically bi-focals. It just makes it harder to be comfortable. Weird?
- I went through several years that I was too busy to finish barely one single book when my kids were growing up. That comes from being an incredibly busy mom. I learned to always keep a book in the car for those hours of my life that I spent waiting to pick kids up.
Books have taught me so much and for that I am deeply grateful.