Why Read

I have never been "outdoorsy." I mean, don't get me wrong, I didn't mind being outside when I was a kid. If my mom (it's always my mom) forced me out of the house I had an amazing time. I made soup in puddles with sticky milkweed pods and beyond their prime vegetables plucked from the garden. I built forts from boughs and blazed trails in the woods behind our home. If I had had my choice I would never have gotten dirty or messy. We (luckily) had a brook behind the house, so cleaning up was never an issue. This was out of necessity though. What else was I going to do?

If I had it my way (and I often did), I would get lost in books. When I say lost, I mean that I would begin reading and three hours would feel like twenty minutes. I would stay up to read "just one more chapter" and end up finishing a book. I would look around, ready to talk about it only to find that everyone in the house had fallen asleep. It was even worse if I was reading and everyone was awake. I'd look at them (sobbing--I loved dramatic tales) and wonder how they could go about their days when Mr. Darcy was being intolerable, or when Charlotte was passing away.

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Reading was an escape, but it was more than that. It is more than that. Books are about learning.
I read to escape.
I read to learn.
I read to experience.
I read to explore.
I read to laugh.
I read to cry.
I read to feel.

Interesting Lines

There's something special about being read to. You feel connected. You know that that person is taking time out of their day to read to you.

I found the cover interesting enough, so I read the first page, and then the next...and the next. I was hooked.

the Auto-Parts Magazine for some reason made me so happy. My dad would get it out and lay on the green painted ply-wood floor we had, and I would lay next to him and look at the pictures of parts, just parts, and smile the entire time. I was baffled by that magazine, apparently parts to cars, motorcycles, bikes, lawnmowers, etc. just amused me. We would lay there for a sold hour and I wouldn't take my eyes off of the magazine or stop smiling.

This was my favorite story because of the way he read the book, and the way he used different cowboy voices for each character.

To think that a book can strengthen my love for my mom is so powerful and proves that reading has had such an impact on my life. 

That stopped suddenly when I unknowingly drew something "inappropriate" for the biology section of my encyclopedia. 

I was on the couch almost like I was in a psychologist's office. 

My dad and I have always been really close and sometimes he says lines from the book to me out of nowhere.

I slept most comfortably with a book under my pillow, so much so that when I went over to my friends house, I put a Harry Potter book under my pillow to replace the one at home.

 I always loved reading that book at least twice a day but three times would be better. 

I'm not sure if I could really read yet, but I did like to hold books and look at them.

When I became frustrated with the slowness of reading aloud, I chose my own books and read to myself.

The next time my dad offers me a book I will definitely take it right out of his hands and read it. 

...he referred to objects, such as a phone being a talky thing, I thought this was interesting because I always wonder if dogs think of things like that.

...my dad must have read that to me five times. Im sure he didn't enjoy it, but he read it to me anyway.