As a kid I loved to read. I also loved to be around books. In seventh grade, the neighborhood elementary school I attended had one room that served as the school's library. It was not run by a librarian. Student volunteers helped restock the books once or twice a week. I was one of those volunteers. I can still remember spending an hour or two every week alone in that room, shelving books. I would take my time reading titles and picking out new books I wanted to read. Being in that room, filled with books, always brought me a feeling of tranquility. I also had this feeling that some of the wonderful knowledge housed in those books might by means of osmosis seep into my brain and make be smarter.
Today I still get those feeling inside a library or a bookstore. I love walking around looking at the shelves and tables filled with colorful jacket art, and wishing that I had time to read all the books there. Like a kid in a candy store the vast array of choices can still make me giddy. Picking up a book, reading the back, thinking about the possibilities each book's prose offers, and knowing all I have to do is begin reading and I will be a part of the story within is intoxicating. However, there is one drawback. After choosing the books, they begin calling to me, and sometimes life gets in the way. Especially this time of year. My semester is almost over, and Christmas is approaching. With so much to do, it is difficult to press the pause button and lose myself in a story, which is exactly what I do when I pick up a good book. Once I begin reading I am lost to the story. Thankfully, winter break is only a week away, and if I have been a very good girl this year, I might just get a book or two from Santa.
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