Before I was a mom, I could spend hours in a bookstore. And I did. Perusing the shelves, the smell of fresh pages, ink not yet smudged. The giddy feeling of coming across a new book from your favorite author that you didn’t even know had been published.
Now, a jaunt to my favorite brick and mortar is a rarity. The sections of books stare at me forlornly. They whisper and commiserate and wonder where I’ve been. The books, the words, the familiar refrain.
I wish I had more time, I whisper fervently back. I miss you too. But this season of my life, this mama to a growing girl, can’t give you the time that you deserve. The disappearing hours with my nose in a book, coming up for air only when my eyes protested at the lack of blinking. And air. And sunshine.
Before I was a mom, you could find me lost among the characters of a story. Fighting sword fights, rescuing damsels in distress, solving that tough conundrum of a mystery.
You could find me wrestling alligators, having tea with the queen, and listening in rapt attention to Steinbeck and the tails of the Joad family.
That is where you would find me, before I became a mom.
Lost among nouns and verbs…and the beautiful symmetry that allows them to come alive on the page.
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