It could be said that I’m a bit sentimental and nostalgic. Not nostalgic in a “Those were the good, old days,” way. More of a “Wow, life sure has had some sweet moments, and isn’t it nice to remember?” Books are no exception to this. I have so many perfect memories that involve books and reading.
Now, it could also be said that I’m a lady who never met a list she didn’t like. So, here’s a list of happy reading/bookish memories (in no particular order):
- Book Fairs at school. Everyone brought home the little magazine of book offerings, and I don’t remember a time my parents ever told me I couldn’t get at least one book.
- A librarian in elementary school who called everyone “Pumpkin.”
- Reading Harry Potter. Also, waiting in line at Borders with my very good friend, Sarah, having just graduated college, to await the midnight release of the final book.
- The smell of books. I’ve been known to stick my nose in books from time-to-time and inhale deeply. I associate the smell of books with comfort and childhood.
- Dad was my tucker-inner at night. Part of his duties was reading to me. I specifically remember reading The Boxcar Children and some series of books about a girl named Libby who may have been adopted (?), but I’m sure there are many more.
- Teachers reading books aloud — books like Where the Red Fern Grows and Summer of the Monkeys.
- The first “big” book I remember reading was Matilda. I remember thinking there was no way I could read a book that long. Until I did.
- September 2009. I’d just moved to a new little bungalow when I was still living in Asheville, NC. My roommates and I were cheap (and broke) and decided to to forgo cable/internet. With no screen to scare at after work in the evenings, I read. I read 6 books that month, perhaps the most I’ve ever read in a month. I just remember curling up in my roommates recliner, typically enjoying an empty house all to myself, and reading for hours every evening.
- My grandma, one of the biggest readers I’ve ever known. She devoured books. Now, her taste in books was a bit questionable (she loved series you’d find in Christian bookstores that featured Amish characters plot lines. Apparently that’s a big thing?). I’ll always remember her in her housecoat and slippers, with a books sitting by her lazy boy in her bedroom.
- This isn’t a specific memory, but I’ll always thank my parents for being readers. My dad hoards books and my mom always has a book or 2 on her nightstand. It’s always been this way, and I’m sure has had a direct bearing on my love of reading today.
I’ll stop it at 10, but I could go on! Books are my lurve language, a constant in my life that is always, and will always be, good.