In a Book

I love to read.

I was always a book worm. I was the quintessential nerd by the age of five, with thick glasses and a book in hand. I devoured books by the dozen, bringing home stacks of new material home from the library every week. There was always something new to learn, a new character to love, a new world to discover.

I was a mousy, quiet little girl in the corner of the room, with her nose stuck in a book. But in my head? I was a heroine on an adventure to save the world. Or an orphan child discovering her true identity. The corner of the room faded away and I was whisked away to some far off land.

As I grew up, my love for reading grew up with me. To this day, I only carry purses that can fit at least a small novel in them. I reread my favorites at least once a year (and if you are curious, among my favorites are the Harry Potter books, The Books of Pellinor by Alison Croggon, Ender's Game, and Pride and Prejudice. Yes, I love young adult fantasy and I will take recommendations.) I love walking into a book store and being able to acknowledge that I know so little. That I have only scratched the surface. I still have so many classics that I somehow missed, poetry that I've yet to discover, and up-and-coming authors to stumble upon.

There is something magical about a good story. It draws you in and makes you care. You care about worlds that do not exists, cry over imaginary people, rejoice in victories that never happened. You travel to faraway places and distant times. You fall in love. You have your heart broken. You feel the threads, the common stories, that tie all of humanity together. These fantastical creations become a part of you and shape how you view the world you do live in.

Oh, there is nothing like a good book.

Today, I find myself hoping. I find myself hoping that one day I can introduce at least one of my kids to Harry Potter. Or Lizzie Bennett. Or Anne of Green Gables. And that they would find the same joy and sorrow and rapture in those pages that I do. It may never happen, I know. But today I just hope, for their sake, that it does. It is the thing I want to share with them more than anything else in this world.

Today, I am going to start reading my books from Samantha: An American Girl aloud to Diva Girl. Maybe she will ignore me. Maybe she will come look at the pretty pictures of a girl who looks a lot like her. Maybe I will feel like I'm talking to myself. I have saved these books from my childhood and have held on to them for my own little girl. So maybe, just maybe....she will like it. Wish me luck.