Fiction

I recall wanting desperately to learn to read when I was about four, and couldn't get my older brother or sister to teach me. Had to wait until I was officially in first grade, alas. Not that I wound up handicapped or deprived, and maybe I wasn't really ready yet at four. It doesn't matter at this point.

But I loved it once I could read and read everything I could lay my hands on and could understand. I read the cereal boxes at breakfast, because all I wanted to do was read. Even now, I read whenever I eat, unless I have a companion at the meal. But alone, even at a restaurant? A book comes out.