I love words. I love spelling them. I love reading them. I love speaking them. They are powerful – magical. These combinations of little sounds can evoke extraordinary emotion. Words can start and end relationships. They can trigger instantaneous changes in mood. They can touch us at our very core. On some level, I knew this even as a young child, and I couldn’t wait to learn to read! I knew that developing this skill would open a whole new world for me. So, when I started kindergarten, I was more than ready! I had pencils sharpened, paper in hand, and was prepared to take on the world. You can imagine my frustration when I was given crayons, encouraged to play “Simon Says”, and “forced” to participate in “nap time” instead. Seriously?! Where was the academic rigor?! Kindergarten was only a couple of hours each day and they were dedicating part of that time to naps?! This made no sense to me. I wanted to learn, and I found this to be a ridiculous waste of my time. My Type A personality was alive and well even at the ripe old age of five.
I remember the day the floodgates opened for me. I was a passenger in the car. Now, driving with my mom is always an adventure, but on this particular day, the adventure had to do with words. Long before smartphones, streaming, and Wi-Fi captured the attention of passengers, I was doing what we all did – looking out the window. I saw the usual cars, trees, and billboards. But, while focusing on the usual, I realized that one thing was very unusual. The words. I could read the words on the signs! I was so excited I could barely contain myself! My eyes darted from sign to sign, and each attempt was met with victory – a confirmation that I was actually able to read. I was ecstatic! It was as if I had been given the keys to a magical kingdom – one that wasn’t owned by Disney.
I had always been read to as a child, but this new skill gave me control. I could select my own books, seek my own adventures, and chart my own course. What a thrill! A visit to the local library could be anything I wanted it to be. This was a place filled with exciting new ideas that fueled my imagination. Each visit was a literary adventure; an opportunity to expand my mind, make new friends, and visit new places. I have my mom to thank for this incredible love affair. She is the one who introduced me to the spoken word, taught me to decode the written word, and shared with me the love of all words.
The summer, though, was my favorite time to visit the library. There was always a tremendous sense of relief as I walked into the air-conditioned building. The cooler air was a welcomed respite from the oppressive heat and humidity. The relief I felt was immediately followed by eager anticipation as to what I might find. I took my time wandering through the aisles examining rows and rows of books. I stacked those that I wanted to take home in a rather precarious pile, and when it was time to leave, I struggled to carry the unsteady tower to the check-out desk. I remember my little arms having deep grooves that were caused from the weight of the books. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t wait to get home and begin reading. In fact, I’d often start organizing the books in the car on the way home – carefully selecting the one that would be given priority status. I read anywhere: in my bedroom, in the backyard, and floating on a giant innertube in the pool. My mom was usually nearby doing the same thing. In fact, if I close my eyes, I can still see her floating along with her floppy hat, oversized sunglasses, and a book of her very own. The feel of the cool water as my feet dangled over the innertube, the sound of the singing birds as they flew by, and the gentle wind ruffling the pages of my book are magnificent summer memories from my childhood. In fact, these things still remind me of summer reading with my mom.
The other day, feeling a bit of nostalgia for simpler times, I decided to explore my options for summer reading. I wanted nothing academic, nothing medical, and nothing focused on a long-term goal. I simply wanted to find something easy – something uncomplicated. I opened the big door of the building, experienced the stark difference between the hot summer sun and the cool interior air, and all at once the memories came flooding back – the smell of the dusty books, the crisp feel of the pages, and the weighty treasures in my arms. I smiled as I entered the building. Summer had finally begun, and I was ready for my next adventure. Now, if I could just find a giant innertube.