When I first learned what reading was, I was 4/5 years old. It was summer of
2012. My father would always come into my room at night before I went to bed and read
to me. I remember having my pink lamp to the right of me, while my father sat on my
bed to the left of me. He would read to me some Spanish books, but most of the time it
would be English books. We would read together sometimes too. We would read “No
More Monkeys Jumping On The Bed.” It was one of my favorites to read before bed.
Then after we read together, he would tuck me in bed and kiss me goodnight.
Fast forward to 2016, I permanently moved to Georgia with my mother. She
never read to me before I went to bed because she had a hard time reading English. It
was okay though. When I went to school, the teachers would teach us how to read and
let us go to the school library. I fell in love with the library; I would go any chance I got. I
loved how many books they had and the different varieties, even though I only had a
thing for fiction books. I would read books about fairies fighting globins and about girls
who were secretly super spies. I would check out 2 or 3 books and finish them within a
day or two. Reading was my favorite thing to do during my freetime.
In 2022, I went into foster care. You might be wondering, “ What does that have
to do with you and reading?” Well, I had lost all motivation to do anything. At the age of
14, I had all these questions and emotions, like “Why me?” and “What did I do wrong?” I
didn’t want to read anymore. It wasn't the same, I couldn't escape into my magical world
of reading.
I continued to go from foster home to foster home. I eventually started reading
again but it was never the same. It felt like a chore instead of doing it just for fun. It
always reminded me of my father and mother. At the time I convinced myself that I
hated my mom, which would give me more of a reason to not read. Reading brought out
my sorrow and anger rather than joy and pleasure.
In conclusion, I started off loving reading, only to end up never wanting to do it
again. Now, I read from time to time, but it’s never the same. I try to escape reality
through but even that's hard these days. I miss when I could disappear in a book and
just get away from the world. But hey, life isn’t fair.