thirty days with a grateful heart - day twelve

day twelve - book worm

I love to read.  I've loved it since I was very small.  I love being able to escape into another person's life, into another time, into another place, if only for a short little while. 

When I was growing up, we weren't allowed to own books.  My father was in the military and each time we moved, we were given a household weight allowance we were required to stay under.  Books were more of a luxury than a necessity so owning them was out of the question.  I have more than made up for that the past few years.

I remember reading Harlequin Romance after Harlequin Romance when I was about twelve.  Somebody, somewhere should have probably stopped me because somehow, I really believe this tainted my view on the reality of romance.  You mean every girl doesn't have some half naked man named Zeke (or Max or Rafe or Blaze) riding up on his white horse (or limousine or private jet or yacht) whisking her off on some passionate adventure every weekend?

In college, I got onto a Stephen King kick and read just about everything he'd written up until that point,  one of the most memorable being the short story called The Long Walk.  I am not quite sure what it was about this story that resonated with me, but it struck a chord and I have often talked about and recommended it to anyone who would listen over the years.  The last Stephen King book I read was IT.  I couldn't sleep for weeks after reading that one so I decided he and I were done.

Sometimes I will go to the library or a book store and just sit for awhile.  I like the smell.

Oprah started a book club way back when and I began to read all of her recommendations.  I enjoyed most all of them because they really allowed me to branch out a bit.  To try something new.  To read an author I might not otherwise have chosen.  The last Oprah selection I read was Anna Karenina.  And to be entirely truthful, I only got through about half of it. 

After Anna Karenina, I got into a bit of a self-help phase.  What I have realized about self-help books, however, is that they are all just variations of the same message.  I'm done with that now and onto biographies.  I want to be able to see self-help in action.

When my littles were young, I would read to them every night before they went to bed.  Their favorites were Goodnight Moon, Make Way for Ducklings and the Goodnight Gecko.   I can still recite parts of each, this many years later.  And each and every time I see a baby duck, I wonder if it is Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack or Quack.

When Frankie was small, she hated to read.  In third grade, we learned that she needed glasses and then in fifth grade, she discovered the Twilight books and now, she is a voracious reader.  I want to complain, but just cannot bring myself to do it each time I see an email from Amazon.com thanking me for my latest Kindle book purchase.   Secretly, it makes me really happy that she shares this love of mine and when I go into her room like yesterday and see her smiling at something she's just read, I simply cannot help but smile myself.