There was never an “aha moment” or a book that had me in love with reading. No moment where I thought to myself “I’m a reader.”
It wasn’t something but someone.
My mom.
She didn’t force me to sit down and read books. She was just a reader herself. It feels like my mom has read hundreds, if not thousands, of novels. They’re all romance and are mostly Nora Roberts’.
My mom sort of modeled reading in front of me throughout my childhood. Like most people, I idolized my mom so I wanted to do the same thing she did. Read.
I just blossomed from there. It was widely known in my family that I always had a book on me.
I think I read all of those Dick and Jane books when I was super young, maybe 6 or 7. I then worked my way to the Captain Underpants and Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. My first ‘big’ or, I guess, Young Adult books was the Percy Jackson series as I went into middle school. After that, it was the Hunger Games, Divergent, you know, all the main series that got me through my early teenage years.
And don’t get me started on when I discovered iBooks and Kindle on my iPhone. I was literally reading non-stop. Day and night.
Sleep? My middle school to high school self was basically sleep deprived all the time.
Books have just always been a way for me to escape reality, which I think a lot of readers, like myself, can agree with. Stressful day at school? Read. You feel off? Read. Any minor inconvenience? Read.
Books were a way for me to fall in love without risking anything. The characters within those pages shaped me into who I am whether that was from taking on bits and pieces of their individual personalities or seeing something within them that I admired.
Well, that’s how I fell in love with reading. Thanks for coming back or, if you’re new here, welcome 🙂
xx
Read more: Journal Entry from 07/27 – Struggling with Direction
[…] Read More: How I Fell In Love With Reading […]