(no subject)

So topaz119  informs me that it's National Hug-a-Writer Day. I can't think of a better thing to celebrate.

I was shipped off to live with my grandmother before I was four, and I stayed with her until I was ten. She was a dour-faced and unhappy woman. She hadn't known what to do with her own kids, and she certainly didn't know what to do with me.

So she taught me to read, and kept handing me books. Best. Gift. Ever.

(One of the few times I remember hearing her laugh is when she got a call from the school asking her to stop helping me learn, because, they said, she was doing it wrong. I was in first grade at the time, and reading at a fifth grade level. She was quite amused. She kept handing me books.)

I have books in the kitchen. I have a magazine rack in the bathroom. There is nowhere in my house that is more than ten steps away from something to read. (I just realized, writing about my grandmother, that I have now been an avid reader for 47 years. Wow.)

So, all you writers on my flist, I am awed and humbled, and more grateful to and for you than I can ever express.

::HUGS!::