Sunday, June 1, 2014

A Family of Readers

I love libraries. I love the concept. I can borrow and read books for free. And not just me, anyone. It is like the single most awesome thing people have come up with. I'm sure I inherited my love of libraries from my mother who took my sister and I to our town library at least once a week. We had special canvas bags for library books so that we didn't lose them or mix them up with the books we owned. It was both a regular occurrence and big deal to go to the library. I can still remember the smell of my early childhood library.

Anyway, the library in my town now is still pretty cool. I spent a decent amount of there in my school-aged years.  While I was away at college I lost touch with my town library and definitely lost my old library card so a while back, I finally got a new card and starting going back. The librarian remembered me and the shelf dedicated in memory of my uncle was still there waiting for me. 

Last week, I was running errands with my mom and asked if we could stop at the library so I could return books (I compulsively return books as soon as I finish them so that I don't accidentally lose them). We pulled in and as I was getting out my mom asked me to grab her something that looked interesting. Because being around my mom brings out my teenage attitude I said she should get it herself. Her response shocked me. 

"I don't have a library card anymore."

It makes sense, when I stopped going to the library with her, she kind of stopped going, she didn't stop reading by any means but the ritual of going to the library faded. So I marched her right into the library and up to the counter to get her a new card. 

Then I went off in search of my books. I only take out 3-5 books at a time. It's my rule so that I 1) don't become entirely antisocial while binge reading 2) don't lose any of them. (I'm noticing a reoccurring theme with a fear of losing library books - I'll have to ask Mom if I have a lost library book childhood trauma.) I picked out a few:  

And then I went to find my mom. Unfortunately I don't have a picture of the table I found her at because it was hilarious. She had two whole series laid out on the table and a stack of DIY books. If I ever had any doubt as to where my love reading came from, it disappeared in that moment. I talked her down to 10 books. Take that in, DOWN to TEN!

I made fun of my mom (who is already done with three of those ten books by the way) but I am incredibly thankful that I come from a family of readers, where it was ok to spend a day curled up in a chair with a blanket, a cup of tea, a cat, and a good book, where it was ok to miss a friend's birthday party because you're not done with the fifth Harry Potter book yet even though you've been reading since you got it at 12:01am, where no one even says anything when you come home with yet another thrift store copy of To Kill A Mockingbird. 

I wouldn't trade my family of readers for anything.

Do you come from a family of readers or are you the exception? 

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