When I was young I devoured books.
They took me places
Introduced me to faces
Helped me imagine worlds that weren’t my own.
Nothing to distract me, except siblings and toys
and being told to
go outside.
In the past few years it’s been hard
to read a book
from start to finish.
Grown up books are different.
Big words and ideas so difficult
they make my head
and heart
hurt.
Books are in competition now
with things that take
my attention.
Some rightfully so – kiddos, home, dogs, work.
But for pages
and stories
to compete
with a screen?
With notifications and channels and threads and
electronic mail?
No.
But wait!
You can read on a screen.
They make books that way.
I know.
I’ve tried.
I have never finished,
or read
in entirety,
not once,
a digital book.
Now to be fair
the device where I read
is a phone
or a laptop,
not a device
specifically made for books.
So I reflect, in what times
and spaces
and places
is it impossible for me
to put down a book?
When do books win?
And I think.
And I think some more.
The beach.
At the beach, I read.
YA. Fantasy. Suspense. Picture books.
(Fiction. Lots of fiction.)
Books with robots, dragons, housewives, utopias, and vampires.
Books with characters so flawed
and so brave
and so perfect.
That I paint pictures of them
in my mind
and I feel like I know them.
That I cry when they cry.
And laugh when they laugh.
They teach me things.
When I read at the beach
there are no distractions.
Because sand and devices
don’t mix.
Because wifi is spotty
at best.
So how can my every day
Be more like the beach?
It wasn’t easy, but
I made a choice.
Pings, dings, and social things.
Can wait.
Goodbye, device.
You’ve been replaced.
Morning coffee and a
book
or two.
This is my habit.
This is my morning.
This is me
devouring a book.
Taking me to places,
introducing me to faces.
Imagining worlds.
Again.
