Post by Celia Fredrick on Jun 27, 2012 10:58:21 GMT -5
Curling herself tighter in to the little hidey hole made of a small alcove to the back huge book filled room Celia opened one of the books she piled near her and sighed happily. She ran her fingers reverently over the old pages, taking in the roughness of the paper, the musty but not unpleasant paper smell. She admired the ancient type, the words in the book the same but different from the ones she was used to speaking, more formal, more flowery.
She thought back to when she was sitting in DD's lap listening to him read to her watching the book and suddenly for the first time the words weren't just squiggles, they were WORDS. How proud she had been when she spoke them out loud beating him to the next line, how he had tossed her in the air hugging her and calling for Daddy. She could Read! How proud, how happy, and how blissfully unaware of what this would mean to her later, how much pleasure she would derive not only from the act of reading but from the bound bundles of paper that held the words. How it would open worlds for her she had never imagined, but now spent hours playing in. And how much those musty smelling pages with their swirling words would help her over come her crushing homesickness.
She thought back to when she was sitting in DD's lap listening to him read to her watching the book and suddenly for the first time the words weren't just squiggles, they were WORDS. How proud she had been when she spoke them out loud beating him to the next line, how he had tossed her in the air hugging her and calling for Daddy. She could Read! How proud, how happy, and how blissfully unaware of what this would mean to her later, how much pleasure she would derive not only from the act of reading but from the bound bundles of paper that held the words. How it would open worlds for her she had never imagined, but now spent hours playing in. And how much those musty smelling pages with their swirling words would help her over come her crushing homesickness.
