CHILDHOOD/MOTHERHOOD
The Lost Art of Reading
Reading brought me so much pleasure and comfort over the course of my life
“The reading of all good books is like conversation with the finest (people) of the past centuries.” — Descartes
As a self-proclaimed bibliophile, my love of reading was instilled in me by my father, who read to me at an early age.
Papa was a voracious reader and made reading a huge part of his daily lifestyle.
I can still vividly picture him reading the morning newspapers at the kitchen table, his spectacles perched precariously on the tip of his nose while he sipped his tea.
He also appreciated nonfiction books — anything related to politics, culture, and religion. He would even go so far as to highlight passages in the books he was reading for future reference.
Growing up, I always had my nose stuck in a book.
It was a constant source of friction between my mother and me, as I preferred to read books over helping her out with my younger siblings.
