For years I absolutely loved reading. At any given moment you would find me with a book in my hands. Books were like treasure to me and I would never pass up an opportunity to get my hands on a good book. It all started when I was four years old. No this is not an exaggeration. I cried at four years old because I could not read a book. You’re probably thinking to yourself “what a nerd” right? Yes I know. It’s pathetic. Why I shed actual real tears (not those fake crying spells you see toddlers have) I will never know. But my mother loves to tell me the story anyway. I don’t remember much of my reading experience in between my extremely out of place toddler melt down and the moment I picked up my first chapter book but I do know that it was that chapter book that made me realize how much I needed books in my life.
I six years old, in the first grade. My teacher’s name was Ms. Miller. She use to tell us she was 101 years old. Yes I know this is completely irrelevant but just give me a moment to live in the memory. Anyways, she came up to me one day and handed me a thick chapter book (100 pages or so, that was BIG at that age, lol). She looked me in the eyes and told me she thought I was reading to read something a little bit more advanced. The school year had only just begun and the class was still focused on picture books with slightly more words on them than the books you’d read to a toddler. You know the ones that still contain tons of colorful images but are too advanced for anyone younger than kindergarten? Yeah those. I was definitely intimidated when she gave me the book but I took it anyways and started to read. I don’t think I put that book down until I was finished with it, which didn’t take me too long. That was all it took. One book in and I was addicted. There was nothing stopping me after this. I’m pretty sure I immediately moved on to Harry Potter books (which my father so kindly introduced to me) and my love for books just continued to grow and grow.
I must admit, my parents dedication to pushing that love definitely shaped my reading habits now. Although my mother was not much into reading herself, she would sit down with me daily before going to bed and we would take turns reading from the chapter book of my choice. I never saw her reading much besides that so I’ve always been SUPER appreciative of the fact she bonded with me over something I loved so much. My father, on the other hand, shares the same love of books that I do. He would take my to the library or the bookstore, grab his own book to read, and then we’d spend hours inside the store or library while I browsed, read, and obsessed over every book I could find with my dad lingering not too far away with his nose buried in the pages of his own book.
To this day I still find myself at my happiest when I am traveling the world via the pages of whatever books I am currently reading. Although my reading style, preferences, and commitment level have change (mom of two very small kids now) I know that reading will always be a part of who I am. Even though life sometimes comes in and causes me to stray away from reading for awhile I always find my way back. It’s just who I am to have a strong desire to read books.
How about you? Can you remember what got you into reading? Share your thoughts below.