Drop (literally) Everything and (try to) Read
I was the kid who always had a book in her backpack or jacket pocket. The high school teenager who brought at least one paperback to all my classes lest I have five minutes to spare between bells. The woman never caught unawares at a doctor or car appointment.2020 caught me unaware, however. It did a lot of us. With pandemic fatigue and unprecedented lifestyle change across the globe - we all feel a bit out of our comfort routines.
I myself was in three separate, no-fault, traumatic car accidents. I moved long-distance twice, lost a childhood home to change. My cat passed away. My health declined.
I dropped everything, it seemed. Even my reading. Reading, which has always been an escape hatch for me. A comfort. An alternate reality. My writing suffered. I wasn’t reading a pages day, more less writing them.
As the world and my own world stabilized - or at least I adjusted to - I started picking up books again. Typing away even a sentence a day of my own writing. I wasn’t proud at first, but I am now. I try to read daily.
I’ve come through, not the same as before. But I’m finding my familiar comforts. In words, a new home, a new family, a beloved furry pet.
The words have returned.