My kids went to a toy exchange this morning. A bunch of neighbourhood mommies hook up and swap books and toys and such. It's a pretty good idea, so yesterday we were going through a bunch of old books to see what we could bring to the party.
Amongst the books in James' bookshelf I was surprised to find my old copy of A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. L'Engle recently passed away at the age of 88.
Finding this old favourite reminded me of what a ferocious reader I used to be. My mother tells me stories about how I'd devour books like candy when I was a pre-teen. I remember reading books every night until baseball season and then turning to Tom and Jerry on CJCL, 1430. That was my routine from the age of 8 to 14 or so.
I almost never read books anymore. I read plenty online, a newspaper every day and plenty of magazines, but no books. It's a shame.
