My Childhood Memories of Books

400 Words2 Pages
I do not remember any time in my life, when I was not aware of books. My earliest memory is of my uncle telling me a story about a wicked dragon, which steals a treasure, and the group of heroes, who go to confront him in battle. He used to tell me this story in sequels, a small amount every week, so by the time next week came up, I would be totally waiting in anticipation. It was when I started reading myself, that I realized that he had been retelling Tolkien's "The Hobbit". To this day "The Hobbit" is one of my favorite books, I read it to bring back memories of my child hood, when I’m depressed, or when I plain don’t have anything else to read. My father is a Masters in English Literature, and because, or maybe in spite of that he loves reading, not just classics, but all sorts of books, science fiction, history, war novels, philosophy, you name it he's read it. I can very honestly say that my house resembles more a library than a home. There are books stacked every where, and periodically my mother throws a fit, and threatens to throw them all out, just so that she can have room to move about in. Maybe, my sister and I inherited this live of reading from my father, or perhaps, our environment influenced us, but we were hooked onto books from a very early age. We would even take them to social gatherings, where we sure that we would get bored, and then just disappear into a quiet corner and spend the evening reading. Now that I’m older, people meeting me after a long time come up to me and exclaim that we remember you, you were the little girl who always had a book in your hand. As I grew older, my love for reading also grew; my interests extending to every kind of book, except for schoolbooks.

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