So here's the short of it,
Maybe I was born a reader
And here's the long
Tomorrow kids come back to school and it's gotten me started thinking about being a youngster. I liked books and learning about things. Mom tells me that when I was a very little girl, I always went to bed with my books. It wasn't a blanket or dolls or stuffed animals or toys of any kind, but my books all over the bed with me. As I got older I often read late into the night. And if Mom would come tell me to turn out my light, I'd just get under the covers with my electric blanket control which gave off just enough light for me to read. That habit has continued with me through adulthood. There's nothing like a good book at bedtime. It often took me quite a long time to get through a book, because for a long time bedtime was the only time I had for leisure reading. So at the end of a long hard day I'd go to bed and start reading and get through maybe 10 pages and then fall asleep with the light on and the book over my face. Somehow the next night I'd only remember the first 5 of those 10 pages and have to back up to start...
But last year, I stopped reading. Well, not really. I read lots of articles about my cancer, about the drugs I was taking, about the side effects and how to manage them. I read about what kind of food I should be eating, and how I could give myself a better chance of the drugs working to their best capacity. I also read the things I had to read to stay up to date with work (as much as I could). I read a few magazine articles. I bought a book about dog training when we got Sophie, but I couldn't get reading it. I read a children's book called Tear Soup, and cried and cried. I read dozens of encouraging cards and notes, and really took courage and good things from them. But I didn't really read any books. I started a couple, and I couldn't sustain a long enough interest or thought process or whatever it is that makes us readers and didn't get very far.
This vacation, one of the things that I did was do a final proof reading of my Dad's memoir
A Name in the Sand. Of course, proof reading isn't like reading at all, and I have read Dad's book several times. Well, I haven't read it in the way that I read other things, and I still intend to do that, but I've read it for editing, proofing, suggesting, etc.
After I finished that task though, I found that I was looking around for something to read. Now that's something that I've not done in a long time --- Well, this Christmas, my sister-in-law, Betsy, gave me a book called
The Art of Racing in the Rain. For the first time in many, many months I had a good long read. I was still on vacation - thank goodness or it probably would have really impacted getting up for work!
I got started reading this remarkable book, and I slipped into the story in just the way I used to. Everything about me disappeared and there I was living the life of Enzo. It was a very beautiful book. I stayed up until 2 in the morning reading. I cried. And then I turned out the light and went to sleep.
