Throughout my childhood, books could get me out of all manner of unsavory things. Naps, for instance, could be avoided if I promised to read quietly in my room.
I got my first library card on a Kindergarten field trip and that following Summer I enrolled myself in the California Raisins Summer Reading Program. We went to the library regularly and I could check out as many books as I wanted. While this often ended in tears as books were lost in the abyss under my bed, it fostered a deep love of reading.
I was always aces at reading competitions. Remember BookIt? My school also did “Read to the Moon” where every page read brought us a mile closer to our celestial goal. I was personally responsible for quite a bit of our travel. I crushed annual reading goals.*
Reading also provided an escape. The Summer I moved to New York I buried myself in Baby-Sitter’s Club books from the local library. Lost in the adventures of Kristy and her friends, I didn’t could ignore my anxiety about starting a new school.
Currently, I’m rarely found without a book in my purse. In fact, I’ve been known to select purses specifically because they are sized right for book-carrying. I’m avid, insatiable, always looking to start the next story. I swap books with friends and family and online via BookMooch. When people tell me they don’t have time to read, I smile and turn back to my book.
Reading is my favorite pass time. Books are slowly taking over my home but, as I tell Will, there are worse addictions.
I am a reader. Reading is a crucial part of who I am.
*Sadly, my early zeal for reading had a dark side. My first instance of plagiarism was forging my mother’s signature on a form attesting to how much I’d read that week. The give away? I’d yet to learn capital letters in cursive.