Book

Just last week, I bought a book. It was an actual book, with a hard cover and thick creamy pages.

It's been the better part of a decade since I have purchased a book for sport. That book purchased so long ago, I've yet to finish. This book, I vowed, would be different. I don't know why I thought so.

I just did.

Purchased on-line and on a whim, the book arrived today, and I sneaked into this Mom Cave to catch a glimpse of what was inside its cover. I opened it, and rubbed its first pages between my fingers, lingering.

It smelled like my past. It hinted to days with leisure when reading a book was as easy to do as any old thing to pass the time.

Its words spoke to me. They were so carefully crafted that they flowed with ease one to the other. They were adult words, made of "ABCs", yes, but still so far removed from the vocal stims, echolalia and fact-spewing that have bombarded my life for years.

Today I opened a book that joyfully had nothing to do with special needs.

I started to read it, and I cried.



This entry was written in response to the letter prompt "B" in the Blogging A to Z Challenge April 2012.

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