There is something special about immersing yourself in a book. Turning the page in anticipation of what is to come next. Telling yourself the big lie of, “Just one more paragraph.” Another paragraph turns into another page. Then you tell yourself that you’ll stop after this chapter. “Well, the next chapter is short, so I’ll just go ahead and read it now.” And God forbid if someone interrupted you in the midst of your reading. They would have to wait until you came to a stopping point!
That was me for as long as I can remember. My love for reading began as early as middle school, if not before. Some of the books I remember reading back then were: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, by Maya Angelou; Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, by Mildred D. Taylor; and The Diary of Anne Frank. It was in these books that I found friends—other young girls who I felt connected to.
In college, my love for reading continued, yet staggered. Because I took mainly writing workshops and English classes, I didn’t have too many textbooks—mostly just anthologies and poetry collections. I had to read all the “classic” texts like Frankenstein, The Scarlet Letter, and various works by Shakespeare. Though I didn’t always read these for fun, I was able to pick them apart from an analytical standpoint, and my professors often enjoyed my essays. As a poet, I connected more with the material in my poetry workshop classes. Poetry is a language that I thought I understood way before then, yet I am still learning today.
After college, it was hard for me to enjoy reading. I would continue to buy books, but I wouldn’t always read them. Last year, I came to the realization that collecting books and actually reading them are two different hobbies. I wanted to read some of the many books that I had already, but it seemed impossible. I also wanted to start my own book club with people that I knew, but it never happened. I just decided to read them by myself.
With the help of the Goodreads app, I scanned all my books and set a goal of twelve books last year. I didn’t start my challenge until May, yet I was still able to reach my goal. I didn’t quite know where to begin at first. I typed up a list of all the books I hadn’t read, in alphabetical order, and went from there. Sure I skipped a few here and there, but I was finally getting back to my old reading self. This year, I hope to read twenty books. I can’t wait to continue my love for reading.