As I was driving home today, the roads thick with traffic, my mind started to wander.  I’d begun my audio book of “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” for the second time (I haven’t found anything new on audible recently, which is a huge bummer) and I began to think about the magic of reading.

When I was younger, I was a total book-worm.  There was something so incredible about getting lost in a good book ~ a world somewhere else, that totally took you away.  I’ve had moments in adulthood when I’ve been completely overtaken by a book.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I loved the ‘Hunger Games’ trilogy and the ‘Divergent’ trilogy.   I also was completely enamoured with Elizabeth Gilbert’s ‘The Signature of all Things.’  Stunningly beautiful.

We moved a lot when I was young, but I remember libraries.  My mum always took us to libraries and I would get completely wrapped up in the young adult section, piling up the titles I wanted to take home, only to have to weed through and pick a select few (which I would read in a matter of days).  Books were my salvation, but they were also my teacher. So many things could be learned by reading books, exploring faraway people and places. Igniting the imagination to infinite possibilities.

When life gets crazy, or stressful, I find such beautiful relief in my audio books.  I miss that I don’t take the time to read ~ that I haven’t taken the time in so long because life seemed to get in the way.  I’d like to get back to it, get back to myself.  I read a brief newspaper article today about MS, and remembered when the numbness in my feet first started.  Remembered thinking and wondering if I would ever feel them normally again.  The answer, sadly to this point, is no.  But so much has happened since that day and I’ve lost little bits of myself because of stress and work and the ebb and flow of life.

I’d like to get back to reading.  I guess that’s my point.