I’m reading again. When I was younger I read books voraciously—one after the next. I read late into the night frequently. Once, I read an entire novel in a single sitting. Once I uncovered an author I read everything they wrote then reread it all when I couldn’t find anything new.
These days I’m surprised when I’m reading late at night or even remembering to pick up the book I put down last night, last week, or last month. I’ve had to restart books I’ve abandoned afraid I just couldn’t figure it out unless I started over. Worse and more surprising I’ve chosen to not read when I could have easily done so.
The events of a family’s life clog up a day like fallen leaves bunch together to dam an overland stream. The first leaf catching on an innocent obstruction in the flow. Subsequent leaves piling up blamelessly behind the first. Individually none takes up all that much time. Even several in a bunch can’t significantly waylay my plans to read. Incrementally they build till their ceaselessness and unpredictability overwhelm me. Watching television becomes easier to accomplish.
In any case, for now, I am reading again.
Word count: 209