So, this is my son’s favorite book.
I love reading, always loved books, smelling books, buying books and most of all being in bookstores or libraries. I remember when my mom took me to the library multiple times a week allowing to check out stacks and stacks of books at a time.
I devoured books, and they were my favorite thing growing up besides sports and later professional dancing. My love for reading has only grown over the years and I still walk into a bookstore and feel like I am home -smelling the books, reading, losing track of time. For as early as I can remember the library was a huge part of my life and I was involved in the summer book club, weekly readings and all kind of contests they had.
So now I go to my “old” library with my son. Because reading was such a huge part of my life, when I happen to stumble upon an old book in my library that I once love, I am flooded with memories upon memories. I am taken back to when I was a kid, sitting in that exact spot that my son is sitting and looking at books; I can see every detail, the smell of the old books, the sometimes yellowed pages, the hushed quietness that pervaded every nook and cranny of that magical place.
When I was a kid I would sit on the short stools used for shelving books, leaning up against the stacks, and read and read. Now with my son I do the same. Then he walks through the aisles, looks at books, takes them out, opens them, looks at them. My mom let us stay for as long as we wanted, and she put no limit on the amount of books we were allowed to take home.
I let my son experience the same thing. He grows up surrounded by books and reading. And he likes it.