As a little girl, I was greatly influenced by books; I have a slew of memories from over the years that all revolve around books…
– Cuddling in bed with Mom when she read to us each night
– Folding laundry when my oldest sister carried us away on the words of a story
– Drinking Turkish tea on dark, rainy days while being delighted with the tales of Paddington
– Being calmed by the hush of a story after falling and stabbing my chin with a stick
– Receiving books for Christmas and birthdays
– Choosing little Illustrated Classics as prizes when I did well in school
– Loading up and heading off to the library where we were each allowed to borrow several books
– Going on vacation and sitting around wide-eyed as my sister read to us in varied tones with unmatched facial expressions
– Sitting around the dinner table each night after supper while Dad read to us
– Setting up a reading nook in a closet and then spending hours sitting in a mini rocker and reading Little House on the Prarie
– Running my hands over the shelves of books we kept in our living room
– Organizing and re-organizing our all of bookshelves in our dining room
All of these memories and so many more are from when I was a little girl – three, four, five, six, seven, and eight. They helped shape and form me into who I am: A word lover. A word crafter. A word consumer.
I’m so thankful for my family and the work they went to to surround me with words, to grow my love of reading, to help me find joy in learning. Back then I didn’t want to be a writer – I didn’t even know it was possible for a normal human to be a writer. I just knew words were powerful – that words changed me – that words made my life better and opened my eyes to knew worlds and possibliites.
My life has been incredibly influenced through the books that I was surrounded with as a child, and for that, I will be forever thankful.