The piercing scream heard from her mother during her birth gave way to her silence in her adolescent years. Where had the inner solace begun?
When had it began? Wherever or whenever … it led her to a love of reading, to a love of writing. It allowed her to express herself to herself, within herself. It provided her a safe inner world in the midst of her deteriorating outer world.
The darkness crept in unawares and in response she slumped her shoulders. She unconsciously leaned toward a sliver of light passing through the room. She readjusted her legs having acknowledged the subtle tingling from it falling asleep. It was only a partial realization as was the one that her nose was now touching the page as she continued to read. Her soul had overtaken her again. She continued to read until she could no longer see the words on the page. She looked toward the window and wondered when the sun had gone down. The room was dark; she’d had read the day away.
“Turn on the light, you’re going to ruin your eyes reading in the dark!” She recalled her mother telling her time and time again and, yet, still she would get lost in the words on a page and read in the dark. Ironically, she didn’t even know where her glasses were, not that they would help her read in the dark anyway. Ironic and sadly funny at the same time. She put the book down, stretched her body across the floor to alleviate the pain of waking joints and muscles. She looked out the window into a starless night.
I look forward to reading your thoughts and experiences regarding the beginning of your love for reading.
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