A Word on Words

Depending on how you look at it, I either had the great fortune, or misfortune, of falling in love with books at a young age.  You see, the younger one is when discovering the art of reading, the more apt that person is to believe in-well, a myriad of things.  As a result of your over-imagination, it is likely you will not be classified as one of the "cool kids" in your young adult years.  It will take a couple years thereafter, and a good number of well-developed plot lines to figure out that all's well that ends well.  

Anyway the thought occurred to me that, while I carry one with me every single day, I often overlook books as a source of bliss.  For instance, what days are more exciting than those where you pick up and begin a brand new book?  Or the overwhelming joy that can encompass you when having a whole bookstore at your disposal?  And sometimes there is no greater heartbreak than gently closing that last page to the back cover.  For me, books define everything from a period or time to a Sunday morning.

So I guess, like all little things that get taken for granted, I just wanted to a take a moment of gratitude.  Thank you to every page I never gave up on, for the wonderful adventures and vast fortunes that you've bestowed upon me.

But more importantly, thank you to my Mother, who provided nightly story times at a young age, and later placed countless books in the palms of my hand.

{Image Credit: Furbish; as a side note, Little Women was my very first "chapter book" at the ripe age of five}