I am obsessed with reading romance novels. To know me is to know my screen time is not filled with twitter, snapchat, or U tube. No my screen time, and there is a lot of it, is filled with reading the books the likes of Prep, by the author Jenny Han or The Summer I Turned Pretty by the author Curtis Steinfield. And yes, without a doubt, I know before I reach page fifty, how the book will end. True there is always a teen age girl at the center of each book who ends up finding herself once she has traversed the ins and outs of a high school romance. However, for some reason I am always sucked in by how the author describes the interactions between the characters on pages 50 through 350. For there is no question, each book finishes with the same phase, “the end.” Ah, but, it is the getting to the end which is what keeps me coming back for more.
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One day my father took my brother and I to an iconic Capitol Hill toy store. It is not so much that a specific date is etched into my brain. Rather, all I need to do is close my eye and I am right back to that day. It was the day my Dad told us no toys just books. We could each return home with a book. That is how it all started. Now although I have no idea what book my 6 year old self picked out that day. What I do remember is all the pride I felt knowing that I now owned a book that I had chosen for myself.
As a young child reading was entertaining and fun, especially with parents who made it their mission in life that my brother and I not only read but developed a love of books. Yet and still I recall a time in elementary school where I had outgrown the offering of books available to me at my parochial school library. It was then around fifth grade that I truly began to appreciate my mother’s insistence on frequent trips to the public
One day my father took my brother and I to an iconic Capitol Hill toy store. It is not so much that a specific date is etched into my brain. Rather, all I need to do is close my eye and I am right back to that day. It was the day my Dad told us no toys just books. We could each return home with a book. That is how it all started. Now although I have no idea what book my 6 year old self picked out that day. What I do remember is all the pride I felt knowing that I now owned a book that I had chosen for myself.
As a young child reading was entertaining and fun, especially with parents who made it their mission in life that my brother and I not only read but developed a love of books. Yet and still I recall a time in elementary school where I had outgrown the offering of books available to me at my parochial school library. It was then around fifth grade that I truly began to appreciate my mother’s insistence on frequent trips to the public