And So It Goes

A few years ago, I was asked about my hobbies. Keep in mind, I was a single mother of two, held a demanding full time job, and I barely found time for sleep- let alone hobbies. When asked about hobbies, I acutely remember that I thought for a moment, stalled for time, hemmed and hawed, and couldn't come up with an answer for what seemed like an awfully long while. Finally, I shyly admitted that the only thing I have consistently spent significant time doing since I was a small child is the very hobby that used to cause other kids to think I was a dork: reading.

I love, love, love to read. I used to walk home from middle school while literally reading a book when I walked (and yet other kids walked with me. How nice of them!). My mother used to limit me to 10 library books at a time. Words, I have come to think, are the most meaningful yet fleeting thing in my life. When my girls were in high school, I realized that I had not read all of the "classics" that they would be reading, so I went to my library, found the classic book section, and read them- book by book by book. I've read so many of them, the only ones left to read look too boring to even pick up. I tried to tell my children that classic books are called classic books for a reason...because they are that good! Of course, they did not go for it and do not like to read the way that I do.

Why this post? I guess because it is time to face it: I'm a reader. That's my hobby. Always will be. Sorry, middle school friends who considered me a dork. Sorry, folks who want me to do things like love sports or knitting or watching TV or skiing. Everything has its place, but for me, reading is now and always will be my hobby.