Books Were There to Protect Me

Powell's Books

No matter how many times I got lost in life, books were there to protect me.

Through my childhood years when my parents abruptly parted ways. Through my overly dramatic teen years when the world seemed against me. Through my self-destructive young adult years when I was trying to find my way.

More than anything I associate books with my beautiful mom, who I will always imagine with her nose happily stuck in one—exuding warmth, comfort, and love.

When my lovely friend Letizia at Reading Interrupted asked me to share a special reading memory with her, I felt privileged to write at her beautiful blog. I follow it religiously and it never fails to inspire me.

Any bookish memory I reached for, there was my mom.

As most of you know, my mom has been on my mind a lot this year after battling her second stint with breast cancer. And when I was by her side to find out the test results, a magical memory helped me get through it all.

Read “A Castle Filled with Stories” over at Reading Interrupted…

 

14 thoughts on “Books Were There to Protect Me

  1. danniehill says:

    Wonderful story about books and your great Mom!

    Isn’t it great to have friends who support you without expecting anything in return. Letizia is one of those kind of people!

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