|My set of classics (Traded in 1973)|
It felt like I tasted candy when she read to us. Her sweet voice dramatized emotions contained in words written long ago. The class, usually a little noisy, sat frozen in silence as images appeared on the screen of each student's imagination. No one had ever read to me before. I thought I didn't like reading, My family didn't read or speak English. There were no books at home. I thank this teacher for successfully instilling a hunger for more. Books became inseparable from my life.
Once, many years ago, my husband and I traded an old, beaten up car for a set of classic books, beautifully bound. We knew we made the better deal. When my daughter rested peacefully in my belly, I read to her. When my husband worked nights, I read all night long. My favorite outing? To go to a bookstore. I cannot go to sleep unless I read before turning off the lights.
My home is cluttered with books. I treasure them like real people with covers that mislead, attract attention giving clues about the person within. They're expressing dreams, ways to help, share a story, or a poem, fiction or truth that exposes their true self...to me.
Books in every corner
People waiting to be opened
Hoping to be understood
(For Poets United.)