This summer has been one of the busiest for me as a parent. Running my kids from golf tournaments to soccer tryouts and uniform fittings to weekly library visits that serve a dual purpose...one for volunteering and two for stocking up on books to read this summer to my littlest reader.
I spent the past year in spin cycle. Between teaching, Masters work, being a mom, taking on a new fitness regime, and just making the days happen. Classroom and Masters work absorbed every spare moment for reading for pleasure. In the spare moments of time when I could read, my mind had trouble sticking to whatever it was I was *trying* to read.
Masters done, schools out for the summer, and I have spent time reading. Every book that I want to read. Books I want to re-read. Author's from my childhood that I fell in love with, books suggested by friends and family. Books that I devour in an afternoon; tucked in a chair, curled in a blanket, next to my littlest one, tucked under my arm...sleeping.
I spent the year being told what to read, and having to read late into the night - my eyes exhausted from words and phrases that held little worth to me. Words and phrases that I read and re-read because I had nodded off once again. I fell out of love with reading. Something that has been part of me since my very first summer read (Charlotte's Web, as a kindergartner). This summer, I chose.
Summer Stacks started and stopped, piled up on nightstands, in pool bags, and tagging along for long drives. Books shared by and with friends. Texts and tweets to authors I am reading and admire. Picking up a book in the middle, where I left off mid-Masters papers.
Summer is the perfect time for falling in love with reading once again.
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