Sandy Supposes....

Books, My First Love

PROMPT November 14th

It's time for another prompt from the War Chest! Take a stab at this one:

Share your first experience with love. No ... not like that.

          When I attended elementary school, I first felt the "symptoms" of love. Oh, my heart would pound and race. My breathing would accelerate. I felt antsy and unsettled. I couldn't imagine not being with my love. I experienced difficulty concentrating. Most of the time, I was preoccupied with thoughts of being with that love. Nothing else mattered.

          I hurried through homework and household chores everyday. I barely tolerated face time with my family. I had to free up time. I needed alone time with my obsession.

          My first love was reading. Yep, I enjoyed it so much, it consumed me. Nothing compared to savouring a new book. Always, at every possible opportunity, my nose was buried in a book. I felt compelled to finish each one as quickly as I could manage. Not only did I want to discover the ending, I wanted to get started on the next story. There has always been a plethora of reading material and a unequal amount of reading time.

         Oh, I heard all the names and labels. I was called a bookworm, a nerd, and anti-social. I did not care.

          Books travelled with me. They are quite portable, and they never complain. During impossibly long, confining car trips books kept me amused and dulled the endless miles. In tents on camping trips, books provided entertainment and a form of escape. After surgeries, recuperating in hospitals, books held the pain at bay. Books were faithful companions.

         My parents worried sometimes about my devotion to reading. At bedtime, they'd issue a lights out directive. Sure, a few flash lights may have been confiscated, but they could not turn off the street light outside and across the street from my bedroom window.. That provided more than enough illumination for me to appease my habit. My Mother fretted that my eyesight would be ruined, but to this day I do not require prescription/corrective eye glasses. Granted, I sacrificed sleep to finish reading a book, but I felt it wasn't harmful.

          Life eventually altered and/ or interfered with my reading plans. I substituted book immersion with physical people and activities. Eventually, I married and bore three children. They crimped my style. Children demand attention and rightfully so. Reading opportunities were severely limited.

          My first love never left me though. Once past the newborn stage, my offspring slept through the night, and I acquired a few blessed hours of me time. I returned to my habits of old, and I'd read during the wee hours. Having endured sleep deprivation I could function just fine. My first love and I were reunited.

         

          As they aged my rascals learned that all bets were off and they could wreak havoc unnoticed when Mom was reading. Id' be oblivious to their mischief if a book was in my hands.

         To this day, I cannot read to fall asleep. If I begin a book, I must finish it. Once I start I am committed. So, when I am especially weary, I forego perusing a book in bed. I've learned my lesson, sometimes I do require a good night's sleep.