To: my mom

Thank you. For a lot of things, but especially for reading to me.

One of my earliest and fondest memories is reading with you.

Remember when I was in second grade and you read the hiding place aloud to us?

Every night I could hardly wait to gather in your bedroom, some of us on the bed some of us on the floor. Eager to begin where we had left off the night before.

Anticipation was thick among all of us for that tender nightly ritual.

In an unexpected way that book, like so many others, absorbed me and inspired such a new awareness of the world.

Long into the night I would sit up and contemplate what we had read. I would imagine every detail as it was described and then try to envision how I would have lived that life.

For a long time I believed that everyone lived through a Holocaust.

In fact, for many months I kept a bag under my bed, certain that inevitable day was drawing near. Each day I'd add to the growing reserve.

I wasn't afraid of it because I felt prepared. I'm still realizing those spiritual lessons that began at your knees so many years ago.

But more than what I learned by reading a particular book, I am grateful for what I learned because you read to me.

I learned to love to read!

Of all the things you taught us to love and appreciate, this is my favorite!

Music, art, laughter, singing, beauty, order. Each of these I appreciate because of you and what you taught me as a child.

But reading is a unique endowment because it offers simply endless troves of knowledge.

Thank you mom. For reading to me.

For teaching me how to love it. For enriching my life. For giving me the gift of knowledge. How to find it, how to benefit from it, and especially how to love it.

Happy Mothers Day!
 
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