30 June 2008
I remembered something I didn't know I'd forgotten. It's this bitter-sweet feeling I used to get when reading a really great book, and towards the end I'm torn between wanting to read faster so I know what happens, and wanting to put the book down because I don't want the experience to end. It doesn't come with just any book. I read most of the Nancy Drew and Baby-Sitters Club series, (and I loved them) but that feeling was never there, because there was always another book I could read, so I didn't lose the characters/author's style/whatever it is that attracted me. And then school came and I had to read, not to to enjoy and experience, but to write papers, and to figure out what teachers would ask about. It was always about finishing it faster, and skimming for facts. But now there's time to enjoy reading. I'm thrilled by that feeling. That joy to just sit. The desire to stay up past my bed time, even though I have to get up early then next morning, and knowing it's going to be worth it. I'm still not entirely sure what exactly it is that gives books that magic ability to pull on my heart. And maybe I'm not describing it quite right, I never have been very good at expressing myself...but just sitting here and remembering it makes my heart swell a little. I can't wait to feel it again.