.
Childhood was filled
with books
and more books.
.
The books and
the library became
my best friends.
.
Librarians would
keep the spaces
quiet.
.
The libraries of
my childhood were
aging and orderly.
.
And smelled of books
new and old,
and leather chairs.
.
Nothing beats the lovely smell
of a new book hot off the presses,
or the musty smell of older books.
.
Dark wood book cases,
books by age and
Dewey decimal system.
.
I started young,
the age of 3
taken by my mother.
.
She’ read to me
pointing out each
word with her finger.
.
Soon I knew how to
read by myself,
but it was a night time ritual.
.
My mother said she used to
skip a page or two,
so I’d get to sleep.
.
When I learned to read,
skipping pages no longer
an option.
.
She loved to tell the story
how I’d tell her she missed a page,
“Go Back” I’d say !
.
I hope that reading
isn’t a lost art
for children or adults.
.
Reading filled my hours
when otherwise I’d be
lonely as a child.
.
I looked forward to the new editions
of authors who wrote “just for me.“
Being on the list when the books arrived.
.
Childhood dreams,
imaginations and life lessons
started with being read books.
.
Dreams continue into
my senior years
between the covers of books.
.
.
siggiofmaine 