I’ll never forget the wonder of entering Mrs. Cherry’s used bookstore for the first time. Stacks of books rose from the floor, ushering customers toward the maze of bookshelves behind the front entrance. The smell of ancient pages permeated my senses, and I worked hard to pick my jaw up off the floor. For what seemed like an eternity, I stood. Slowly, my head turned in all directions. Books. Everywhere. All genres. New and old. Never had I visited such an amazing place.
My love for reading began in the womb with my mom’s insistence on reading magazines and books out loud while carrying me inside. She continued reading to us, and when I became an independent reader, I sneaked books and a flashlight into bed with me for entertainment after dark. Being sent to my room was never a real punishment, because books were some of my best friends.