My mom would tenderly tuck me in and kiss me good night. If she read to me, I can’t remember because it wasn’t an every night thing and let‘s face it, it was a long time ago! However, I do fondly remember my dad reading to me every Christmas Eve without fail. He would always read “The Night Before Christmas”. One year Santa Claus left me a much treasured copy of “The Grinch Stole Christmas” and from that time on, I insisted he read that story too. It became my absolute favorite!
I have always been surrounded by tons of books. I took great pleasure in turning the pages and staring captivated at the colorful pictures. When I got old enough to read, I was the one reading the stories. I lost myself within those pages and many of my games for pretend originated from those precious books. I have always loved books. As I grew older, books replaced the playmates and friends I didn’t have. I filled my time with them. At school, my friends often acted out the scenes from our favorite books. I recall vividly playacting out the “Little House” books under the trees of my elementary school playground.
How ironic that my favorite job was in a position ordering mountains of books for a local library. Even when I reached adulthood I surrounded myself with books. When I became pregnant, I began reading the books I was reading myself aloud to share with the baby that was growing inside me. I have shared my love of books with my children from the very beginning. They have both been entered into the summer reading programs from the precious age of one. I would check out tons of books, and before bedtime I would read each and every one of them with my kids snuggled tight against me. When I was pregnant for my son I was put on bed rest. Since I couldn’t do much else, I read mountains of stories to my daughter that summer. So many in fact she won top prize for most books read in the local library’s summer reading program. I continued the tradition with my son.
Every night before bed, we still gather on my bed and I read 3 stories. If I am not too tired I read more. Lately the winds of change are in the air. My twelve year old has started to abandon story time with mommy more and more to retreat to her own room so she can read her own books. Not only has my daughter retreated to read alone, but my son is starting to read a story to me. We trade off reading so he can practice his skills. One day they will both grow too old for mommy’s story time and I will be back to reading to myself at bedtime. It seems I have spent my entire lifetime between the covers of a book getting to know the characters and becoming apart of their lives if only for a little while. Until the day when neither of my kids want mommy to read bedtime stories, I will continue to read to them and enjoy the precious moments while they last until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
