Free

I’m feeling rich because I have a nice stack of books to read.

I just finished John Grisham’s The Guardians and have started an old favorite of Nora Robert’s.

Being able to ‘climb’ onto my new recliner (I mentioned that I’m a bit height-challenged) cover up with my cozy throw – cup of coffee beside me and a book in my hand – is one of the nicest ways I know to spend some time each day.

Whether I’m reading to learn something, or escaping into another world for awhile, reading is priceless. My favorite authors list continues to grow because thankfully there are numerous talented people out there either explaining how to do what they do so well, or transporting me to a place I can worry about someone else’s problems or share their joy.

I started learning to read very early, after shocking my parents with a bad word when I looked around our living room one day. My mom was working the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle. My dad was immersed in a gorgeous geology book. My brother was sprawled on the couch with a comic book (now called a graphic novel). I looked in frustration from one to the other, finally announcing, “I wish to HELL I could read!” Everyone looked at me. My brother smirked because he knew I was in trouble. My dad was just staring at me. My mom, who had a small dog on each side of her in her chair, put down her puzzle and came over to me.

Instead of being angry, she grabbed a book, sat down beside me, and proceeded to start teaching me to make sense of the marks in the book. It was one of the very best gifts anyone ever gave me.