Why I Read
My Reasons For Reading
Whenever I was missing, my sisters and brother, cousins, aunts and uncle and even neighborhood friends, never had to think twice about where I would be found. They knew I was reading.
I could always be discovered sitting at the cellar door reading books, probably dreaming of a future filled with unimagined possibilities, and soaking up the sun. It didn’t matter what the reading material was. Anything I got my hands on was good enough for me. I might have been deeply engrossed in a comic book, a Nancy Drew mystery novel, or any of the scores of books that I could borrow from the mobile library truck that visited my small rural community. It could have also been one of my older sister’s school books. Nothing was off my reading list.
Why I Read
Maybe it was because I grew up poor, in a rural community where only my imagination could take me places filled with hope, places that were more exciting. I am never happier than when I am lost in a book, transported into new and exciting worlds. That interest continues today.
Who Sparked That Interest?
For the life of me, I can’t recall who lit the reading bug in me. I wish I could. I would go back and thanks them for this unending joy, this gift of exploring the imagination and seeing the worlds that other fertile minds have created.
Over the years, that spark of reading has only grown brighter and bigger. I have subscribed to monthly book clubs, have spent thousands of dollars in bookstores, and an insane number of hours in public libraries.
This is the state of my library today. When I last moved, the weight of the books was more than the rest of the content of the house combined.
Recently, I have gotten rid of a few, but to me, it’s still a pretty good collection. Within the pages of books lies the knowledge that will guide each of us to our destiny.
Why do you read? Share your reasons: