Whenever I come home with a new book, I see a confused expression on my mom's face.
I can see her thoughts of trying to understand how I read last week's book so fast and how I practically run to the bookstore each week. At this point, she doesn't attempt to rationalize my quick reading ability, but rather just asks what the book of the week is.
When people find out I am a bookworm, the initial thought is "So, your parents must be big readers?"
Not in the slightest.
My mom has a strong distaste for books, but will listen to an audiobook from time to time. My dad sticks strictly to biographies and James Patterson.
Then there's me - the daughter with an ever growing collection of all kinds of books.
From classics to mystery to fantasy, I have nearly every type of genre you can imagine.
I can't explain where my love of literature came from. All I can tell you is that in first grade when most of my peers were still reading Junie B. Jones by Barbara Park, I was reading A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket. As a child, I often read above my reading level because the books were always longer and I felt a part of the story.
My love of reading has only grown with time. Most people don't understand this obsession as technology has developed over the years. To be honest, I pity those that don't understand.
They will never understand the excitement of reading that first chapter and the pain of reading the last.
Another question I get asked is, "Why do you read so much?".
That is a question I can never answer. There is no answer that will make sense to most of the world. There is simply a deep passion for each book I read. A book is so wonderful because you can always return to it's world at any moment.
There is beauty, pain, and love in every word.
