When was the first time you realized that you could read?
Another installment inspired by the Journal Jar.
I can’t remember the first time I realized that I could read. Maybe that’s because my mother had started me on books so early in my life that I don’t remember learning to read. I just remember always reading. Perhaps I hadn’t learned how to remember at the time that I learned to read.
No joke. My mom enrolled me in a book club when I was a toddler. What does that word mean, age wise? Toddler equals preschool, right? Pre-preschool, in fact, am I right? Anyway, Mom got me a mail order book once a week or once a month, (again, I don’t remember) for a few years. We may still have a handful of them somewhere.
What are your memories about learning to read? Do you have them? I’d love to hear about them.
Pan to here and now– my once voracious appetite for reading has really subsided in recent years. I’ve heard that it’s attributable to my bipolar disorder. That it’s common for those with bipolar to have difficulty reading, that attention and comprehension suffer. This has been my experience, that I have difficulty starting, continuing, and completing books. It’s been a long time since I found a book that made me read it as fast as I could. I miss having a book grab me and drag me through it, needing to know how it all plays out.
But I still love books. I have a ton to choose from. I continue to find more. I have them on my wishlists. Heck, I’m even writing a couple of them!
I realize right here, right now, that I can still read. And I have more time on my hands these days… perhaps I will work on my reading skills.
I go to the library tomorrow, perhaps. Will work on my “kids” book. And will get closer to making it real.
As any of you fine people can do, and will do once you make up your mind to do so. Don’t let excuses defer you– you can do it! So do it!