Winter Reading

          The snow keeps piling up, and we shovel and shovel and shovel and it just keeps coming down. Some complain, some don't. I'd say I'm somewhere in between. Some days I don't like it. I just want it to go away and summer to come so I can sit on the beach and just listen to the waves. 

         Then, I realize, I like winter. I like the snow. I like the cold that turns cheeks and noses red. I like the icy fingers, the icy toes. I like it when it falls all sparkly onto the ground with the slightest little breath of noise. Like a whisper. I like sitting in a quiet room, blinds on the window open, reading. Occasionally looking up as the white, fluffy flakes build up into snow banks. 

       I was doing that earlier. And as I watched the snow and read my book, I wondered why. Why do I read? My brothers call me crazy for the amount of time I spend reading. Almost as if they think it's a waste of time. I thought about that earlier too. Maybe it's a time waster? Maybe I spend too much time reading when I have more productive things to do with my day? 

       Then I thought; am I insane?! Did I really just think that? I know why I read. Because books can take you magical places. Because whether you're reading a book about the history of apple picking, or a C.S. Lewis novel, or the Bible, you're always learning. Always growing. Always absorbing new knowledge of some sort. I like learning. I like getting wrapped up in a book. As crazy as this sounds, I like getting emotionally attached to book characters and crying when they go through hard times. Reading is apart of who I am. It's something I do. It's something I like to do. Especially in the winter.

     So winter can take it's time leaving, spring and summer are probably going to be busy, and I'm not done taking a few more uninterrupted book adventures yet.


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