I had the chance to meet a lovely young lady at a birthday barbeque last evening. She and I shared a common hobby, one which I find fewer and fewer kids these days seem to enjoy. She loves to read.
We talked about it for quite a while – her favorite author, where she finds her reading material, her passion for writing. I encouraged her to hold on to her dream and do what she can to make it happen. I sang praises of the world of blogging and how it would help hone her writing skills. From the corner of my eye, I watched her dad silently listen to what his little girl was telling me; about a dream he clearly encourages.
It was like looking into a mirror of my past. *smiles*
Writing was and is, my dream.
It’s where my rainbows dance in a riot of color when I rejoice, where a gentle wind rustles the leaves when I’m calm, where I am surrounded by the noisiest school band when I’m in turmoil, where feathers and sunshine, cupcakes and cartoons are my friends, when I’m happy. When I write , my mind is my universe…it’s where I’m me, sans everything the world has added on....it’s where I’m happiest.
My exclamations, smileys, semi colons and even that thing I do with the asterixs *points out* all find a happy home. *happily*
I've come to realise that some of the best kind of reading in the world is that which you do as a child…where bible stories about fish and bread leave you enthralled, rocking chairs are wishing chairs and 5 children and a dog can solve just about any crime. Where the lion, the witch and the wardrobe was all you knew of Narnia and you loved the BFG dearly. Where a whole new world was just a few pages away! Such bliss.
Reading favorites change with age. You meet the Potters and Eragons and spend some time on Stephen King and Dan Brown. You search and search for that one author who’s ‘really’ good and whose books you won’t want to waste a bookmark on..only because you just can't put them down. You go from chick-lit to Higgins Clark, Shantaram to Lord of the Rings, even with a little Gibran in the mix. You mix it all up – that’s what adults do.
Then you suddenly happen to spot a certain Mr. Pink Whistle on your niece’s bookshelf.
*grins* Now that’s the way to spend an evening.
Little lady, you took me back to that corner of my mind where there’s a little me sitting on the floor, surrounded by books and armed with a pack of bourbon biscuits. Thank you kindly!
This one’s for you.
