Essay On My Love Of Reading

Some of my earliest memories revolve around reading. I remember being about three-years-old and sitting with my grandfather as he read my favorite story from this big book that was a collection of children’s stories. My favorite story was called “Little Witch’s Big Night,” and I was utterly obsessed with it. My grandfather would read it to me so often that I knew every word and could anticipate what he was going to say next. I can also vividly remember the bookshelf in my childhood bedroom. I had this collection of Dr. Seuss books that had a fabric cover and gold writing on them. I thought these books were my fanciest possessions.

My parents always embraced my love of reading. My mother stayed at home with her children and she was instrumental in my learning to read. Whenever we were at the store, my parents wouldn’t buy my sister and I every toy we asked for, but they never said no when we asked for a book. They would buy us any book because reading was beneficial and they wanted us to stay interested in it. Neither of my parents really monitored my reading either. They let me pick out whatever I wanted to read and never censored it. While I admit I never chose anything deliberately to “adult” for me. Looking back, I’m kind of surprised my parents gave me so much freedom with reading.

I always liked to tell stories and by the time I was in middle school I started writing them down. I started out by just writing about my favorite characters like Harry Potter and Alice (from the Alice Series by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor.) Eventually though I started writing characters I made up, which quickly turned into me writing about myself. Writing was always therapeutic for me, and I’ve always best expressed myself through writing. I think that because writing (and literature) is often such a personal form of expression, that’s what makes it a natural art