“…..Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back!”
As I finished my daughters bedtime story last night, tucked her in and kissed her goodnight I smiled at the simple pleasure of cuddling up together and telling stories; and I began to wonder what it was that cemented my love of reading and whether this is something I’m effectively instilling in my daughter.
My mum was not a great reader but she loved my sister and I fiercely and the pleasure she found from reading wasn’t from personal enjoyment but from seeing our experience of hearing stories for the first time, and from having that one on one time with her children. As a child I felt safe and secure in my mothers arms as we cuddled up and read stories together about naughty bunnies, flying carpets and sailing boats. Now as an adult, I still feel a sense of security when I curl up with a good book.
Reading is all about experiences for me, the opportunity to live so many lives without ever leaving your home and I do experience it all, the words creating images, scents and emotions. I love it all but no matter how powerful or evocative the story, that simple act of first opening a book will always bring me back to my childhood and my mum.