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Storytime

My most constant activity in retirement has been reading. From Day One, and for practically every day since, I’ve begun the day with an hour or two of reading. The delight never fades. Sometimes, when I’ve just finished a book and haven’t yet decided on my next one, I’ll take a day or two where I watch TV or read the news instead of a book. But it never lasts more than two days. The next book is selected, and my days return to their natural rhythm.

I fell in love with books around the age of 9 or 10, when I first discovered novels and the joy of reading for pleasure. The first time I surfaced from a story and realized how much time I’d spent in another world, just at the turning of a page, I was forever hooked on books.

For many of the last years, my patience and focus for reading had all but disappeared. I still carried some paperback or other in my purse for the odd occasion of waiting, or for a few minutes of distraction on my lunch hour. That was about all I was good for. I often chose short stories instead of lengthier prose. It was just so much easier.

I’m finally stretching those focus muscles out again. I’m delving into novels daily; some are new, some I’m eager to re-experience. I’ve become a regular at the neighborhood used book store. I can finally read all those hardbacks that were never purse-friendly.

My old body sometimes cramps or aches now when I sit reading for too long. My mind does occasionally stray to the grocery list or the day’s awaiting chores and I lose focus. But all in all, the old magic is still there.

This poem says it all.

    I Opened a Book

    by Julia Donaldson

    I opened a book and in I strode.
    Now nobody can find me.
    I’ve left my chair, my house, my road,
    My town and my world behind me.

    I’m wearing the cloak, I’ve slipped on the ring,
    I’ve swallowed the magic potion.
    I’ve fought with a dragon, dined with a king
    And dived in a bottomless ocean.

    I opened a book and made some friends.
    I shared their tears and laughter
    And followed their road with its bumps and bends
    To the happily ever after.

    I finished my book and out I came.
    The cloak can no longer hide me.
    My chair and my house are just the same,
    But I have a book inside me.

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