Of Seeking: First Love, Always-Love: Reading

My mother was an elementary school teacher before retiring a few years ago.  An avid reader herself, she was determined to establish the love of reading in her children.  She had no idea, I don't think, just how much of that blood was already pumping through my baby veins. It was the perfect marriage of nature and nurture, naked and lovely in its mo-t uncontroversial form.

the pursuit of happyness
Our house was full of books, and mom often read to me, and I to her, once I learned. It was our nightly ritual. I can also remember curling up by myself in the corner of our sectional sofa, eager to sneak a greedy peek at all those differing lines.  I loved these stealing those words away, and locking them inside. It was in these tender hours that my my love of reading grew, a complicated love, both patient and eager, meditative, but also frantic in its appetite.

Bonjour Tristesse - Page 8 sur 33
Bonjour Tristesse -

I was so obsessed, I can remember a friend of my mother's, a photographer from a local paper, coming shrimping with us one night, and unbeknown to be, snapped a picture of me sitting in a fishy culling box, hair all cow-licked, and eyes wild and bright, I was pointing to something in the book. The picture ran in the paper a few days later, the caption read, "Shrimpin' and Readin'"  I was both mortified and proud of this picture, and eventually I tucked it away somewhere. . . and misplaced it forever. I would give anything to know where that shot was today.

Untitled / yura yuntolov
 yura yuntolov
 I took those quiet moments as I nurtured the love inside of me. It was young love. It was the first, but it would later be followed by several achy schoolgirl crushes on a couple of boys from AP English in high school, and an even more devastating  on a young, talented, tall and skinny poetry major in college.  I'm sure never noticed. . . and likely would have been mortified, however gracious they may have been if they found out.

So I majored in Poetry, and yes I did it for love. I did it for the love of the craft, yes - but mainly for the love of reading, of talking reading.  I did it for the love of coffee and cigarettes - though I never smoked them - I did it for the love of wine, and 7-9pm classes, when everything was quiet in the normally bustling halls. I did if for the love of my mom, and of all those writers that I never met and never would, but with whom I felt an endless connection. I did it cause I think I knew, even then, that reading was not only a part of me, but a part of so many other people, people who may not even know yet how deep and true that blood flows in them. I think I did it because I knew one day I would want to help them find it. Find poetry, or reading, or whatever it was that brought them joy. I want to help kids find the way to what they love. I don't care if its autoshop or water aerobics.  Damn it, I want to help them find it, and celebrate it.


But right now, I am so lost, I don't know how I know that now is the time - that I have to take this leap, while I'm still young. and telling me to take that leap. I think I've known, and I think I've not known. Right now, I have a steady job, a good paying job, a job that is rewarding because it supports a really good cause. I work really hard. I do - - Really hard. But I am so unfulfilled.

i want to do the seccond one

 and honestly, I'm heartsick.

So as I stand on the precipice of my late twenties, I know now is the time. I've expected this feeling for a really long time, now, and suddenly it's here, knocking at my door. Calling me in the night. It's not just deep down inside, it's all around me. I am simply, haunted, and I'm scared shitless. But really, I sound like one of those annoying people on a movie, or in a book, (the cheap ones) who don't know they're in love. But the truth is, I've never tried to deny it.


I know there are so many signs telling me that I  am right about the way I feel and that I should be doing something other than what I'm doing right now. I have no idea how I am going to do it but I'm going to have to get ready, and soon.


So that is why I am announcing right here, right now - that I am going to go  start getting some plans together to go back to school for teaching. I honestly would love it, and I'm sure hate it a little bit, but I think it would be a fulfilling choice anyway. I am ready. Literature, Writing, Drama.


 I want to share these things so badly. This is something that I've thought about a lot, and I can't hold it back anymore. It scares me to write this. But I'm being real here. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do anyway, as a writer? Be real with you? I promise to always be real.

The Hunger Games on Etsy

National Poetry Month #2


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