Sunday, September 21, 2014

When the Odds Are in Your Favor



Windows to the Imagination: What Reading Books Does for Me
When I read, for once the ticking clock is silent. With my head in a book, my anxiety about project due dates, and my peanut butter cookie craving, that itchy mosquito bite, and my sister calling me to come look at a hummingbird feeder all become background noise.
Books, good books, shows me life through different windows and dunk me in emotion. With their settings they take me places I may never go in real life. I see the glittering lights of fabulous parties, smell the stench on a crowded immigrant ship, feel cold Siberian snows on my bare feet—I bristle when my valet criticizes my fashion sense, and then I wonder how hilariously shallow I might be. When the enemy army begins to fire I wonder, weak-kneed, if I would run. Once I taste Turkish delight, I wonder what I am willing to do to eat another bite. I become the characters, the lovable ones, the hateable ones, and the in-between ones. Their experiences teach me of hardship and of comfort, of hate and of hope, of disillusionment and dreams, of lies and of selflessness. Reading shows me the me I am, the me’s that I could be, and the me’s I want to be. When I finally pull my head out of the water, dry my face, and come back to my own window with its old view, I have to stop wondering what I would do and choose which of those me’s will be.



I think this was the first year that the local shop, Chapel Books, had an essay contest. That meant there was a small pool of entries. That was good for me! I won out of maybe 4 other entries. In addition to a Oxford paperback classic of my choice, I received a $50 check, part of which I plan to use to book shop.

Happy writing!