Boo

I vividly remember those first innocent days of stories, the hope and dreams that they inspired.  My joy only increased when I learned to read for myself.  As I sat in the painted tree house in Mrs. Heilbronner’s 2nd grade classroom, the walls faded away, the tree turned real, and I became a part of the stories I read.  The other children almost always chose to go outside to play, but I used every extra minute to read everything I could.  

I would start with the book at the left end of a shelf and work my way right, reading every one.  Sometimes, I recognized things from my own life in the stories I read.  Other times, I learned about things that I never could have imagined.  Because of books my world was limitless.  I could go anywhere and be anybody.  

 

© Salahub 2003