I grew up as a lonely little girl, but yet I was able to go to my secret place every day. It was a world where I had plenty of friends and could travel to foreign countries. Sweetness and light reigned there, and I had all the pets I could possibly want–since I loved animals. My writer “muse” was probably already there, too.
Whenever I plugged my imagination into stories I read in books, I reached my secret place. I could be big and strong and scale mountains if I had to. I was always happy in my secret place.
If I hadn’t had books to look at when real young or books to read, I shudder to think of how I would’ve turned out. My imagination wouldn’t have been sparked. Only with imagination can I write my stories and books today.
If I wasn’t able to read when I was bored or had no one to play with, how would I have spent my childhood? And what would I be as an adult? I probably would’ve grown impatient as I was in the waiting room at the doctor’s office. With a book, I could peace out and just chill.
I am sad when I hear of children not being able to read. It’s not just inner-city children, either. I’ve seen adults who don’t know how to read, and they expect other people to tell them what their emails say. If they are dyslexic, some are afraid to admit it, and some refuse to get help. In my opinion, reading disorders are nothing to be ashamed of.
I just have to wonder–are teachers in our schools really not teaching kids to read? It’s such a colossal waste!
I know there are adults who volunteer their time to help people learn to read. Someday I hope to be one of those volunteers.
My friend Jason Brick and his son Gabriel are my heroes. Gabriel loves to read and goes through books very quickly, like I do. On 1/31/19 Jason posted a video so that he and Gabriel could explain their book donation project. Watch it and see why I applaud their effort.