Reading has always been a form of therapy for me. For as long as I can remember, I have always loved the written word. I found it amazing that I could pick up a book and completely get lost in an entirely different world than the one that I was living in. When I was in grammar school, we had a “library class” once a week where we would have a set amount of time to explore our very small library and pick out a book. Whenever I could not find something I would always resort back to my old favorite: “The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe” by C.S. Lewis. I read it more times than I could count, taking in every word, movement, and quotation.
As I grew older, it became harder for me to be able to really find the time to be able to read. It was a little ironic, actually, because during my college years I worked as a desk clerk for my local library. However, during most of that time I was focused on my school work and looked at more reading as just more work. While there were some books that I fell in love with during that time, it was at this point that I really forgot my love of reading.
I’m sad to say that it would take many years for me to find that love and passion again. When I had my first son, I swore that I would be the dutiful mother and read to him every single night. Well, reality quickly took over that idea. Personally, I felt like I simply never had time to read. Life took over: working, being a mom, being a girlfriend — when was I supposed to be able to find the time? It really was not until I got pregnant again and I was forced to slow down for my health and the health of my unborn son that I realized how much I was missing out on by giving up my reading passion.
One day after feeling awful all morning, I looked around my living room and realized how many books I was surrounded by — many of them my own books! Every once in a while, I would get the urge to run out to Barnes and Noble and invest in a book I was positive I was going to read. I would bring it home with the absolute best intensions, and then it would sit on my counter collecting dust and becoming a waste of a trip and a waste of money. My son had recently begun to pick up his own books and ask me to read to him, but I found that often he would become bored with reading the same books over again. It was at this point I had my “Coming to Reading” moment all over again when I realized I had a wonderful opportunity to not only get back into my reading love, but introduce my son even more to the joys of reading and save money! What was the answer to my reading riddle? The library, of course!
I am lucky enough to live two minutes away from my local library. One morning, I got my son dressed and made a big deal about going somewhere special where we can pick out books to read at night, as long as he promised that he would return them when he was done. As soon as we walked through the door and my little man realized that he could pick out any book around him and bring it home — he was ready to go! For me, just walking through the doors of the library reignited the passion I thought I lost. That day, my son walked out with two library books, about dinosaurs (his favorite), and I walked out with a thrilling book surrounding a murder/kidnap.
Since then, we have never looked back. Going to the library has become a weekly event that we both look forward to. He now knows that the books he brings home, he needs to take back so we can get new ones and reading has become so enjoyable to me that I am easily finishing a book in two to three days. In all, I have learned that while TV shows can be a great escape at times to let your brain “turn off,” absolutely nothing can replace a wonderful book that pulls you into a world that will make you forget about your own, even just for a little while.
