This is from the blog Just One More Page: Today’s MUSING MONDAYS post is about early reading…
Do you remember how you developed a love for reading? Was it from a particular person, or person(s)? Do you remember any books that you read, or were read to you, as a young child?
I remember very clearly how I gained my love for reading. My grandmother, who was agoraphobic and hardly ever left her home, would come over for holiday dinners at my parents' house. She was a quiet woman who had been through raising two children alone while her husband who had been off in the Navy and working for Amtrack. She suffered from severe depression as well. But that's not what I remember about her as a child.
I remember her walking through the door of our house, while the wonderful smells of food permeated the house, and walking to one of the recliners where she would sit ever so quietly. Immediately, I would go hug her and then run off to grab a book. It didn't matter what it was, usually a book filled with short stories and then run back to ask her if she would read to me. She always said yes to the request because she read a lot. With much haste, I'd climb into her lap to show everyone grandma was occupied and was not to be disturbed while she read to me.
My parents have a picture of one of those few times that I ever got the chance to sit in the lovely woman's lap and listen to her soft voice spin worlds around me. I'd love to put it up here, but my parents are in RI and I'm in FL. The sad thing is that my grandma passed away when I was in sixth grade. It hurt to realize I'd never be able to sit cozily with the woman who was more stranger to me than family due to her illnesses and have her read to me.
My aunt, my grandma's daughter, decided she would buy me books for Christmas and birthdays since my grandma was no longer around to read to me. My aunt read a lot too which gave us common ground. My father also started reading aloud to me and my sister after my granmother's passing. He knew it wasn't the same, but he wanted to continue that tradition.
As I got older, reading became my way to escape. My mom always tells the story of how she would ask me to clean my room and how an hour later she'd find me in a corner, with a book in hand, reading quietly. It drove her crazy that my room wasn't clean, but it made her proud that I loved reading so much. We laugh at these stories now because, really, that is just funny.
One great thing about my love of reading is that I've passed it on to my sister. She hated reading as a kid, but now that she's older, married, and working full-time, she realized it was a great way to relax. She told me as we got our nails done last summer, "I never understood what you got from books. You always had one with you and you loved to read," she pulled out a chunkster of a book from her huge purse and placed it on the counter in front of me and smiled, "I totally get it now!"