Reading, Reading, Reading!

Hannah just loves to read. She reads through a book passionately and then searches for more. Many of her books are like good friends. She comes back to them again and again, reading them until she could recite the story from memory.

I should have suspected that she would be like this. After all, she had memorized the entire "Hungry Caterpillar," word for word, before she reached her second birthday. Moreover, I was an avid reader, too. In early elementary school, I discovered the Nancy Drew series and read them one by one until I had finished my mom's entire collection.

I remember reading "The Wind in the Willows" over the course of about an hour when I was a kid, and my mom did not believe me when I told her I had finished the book. She began flipping through the pages and asking me questions about the story. I answered every one!

Recently, the same situation occurred with me and Hannah. I purchased her the first book in the Magic Treehouse series, and she read it, cover to cover, in an hour and a half. I started quizzing her about the plot and the different chapters, and she could answer all of my questions! She has since read and enjoyed two more books in the series. Actually, she reads whatever she can get her hands on for several hours every day.

I am thrilled at her love for books! I know the feeling of infatuation when reading a good story, a quickening of the pulse when I open the book to read and a sadness when I must put the book away for a time. I know the heartache of finishing a well-loved story and wishing that it didn't have to end, that I could enter the story and continue to interact with the "friends" I had grown to love. In fact, part of me secretly enjoys the opportunity to reread my favorite childhood stories with her. I almost feel as if I am returning home after a long absence and finding that, indeed, nothing has changed! Can I confess that I am looking forward to having an excuse to read Nancy Drew again?

I am glad to pass that passion on to my daughter, who is like me in so many ways. I hope that I can continue to cultivate her appreciation for the written word, and that she will carry it with her into adulthood. Maybe someday, if she has a family, she will one day reopen these books and remember the familiar delight of being a carefree, imaginative, five-year-old child.