Reading Rainbow

I'm a fast reader. I'm not a speed reader but I've been known to curl upon the coach with a good book and not leave until every page is devoured, taken in and used for at least a good laugh or cry. I buy new books when I travel but for the most part I borrow them or re-read my own books if I'm desperate for something to read-anything. There were times when I was young that I would want to escape the terror of my little sister and would hide in the bathroom for an hour or so for some private time with my books. I guess you could say it started with little house on the prairie. I read and re-read Laura Ingalls Wilder from the time I could pronounce her name right on through to high school until we moved and I either donated them or sold them in a yard sale. I used to imagine that I was going back in tine where one had no electricity and had to cut the ice for their ice box from a frozen pond in 12* weather. I"d imagine that Laura popped by my house in modern times and I'd take her on a tour of our house. "Would you like a glass of ilk?" I"d ask, to which she'd respond "but I where do you keep your cows?"

You might say that I was a bit of an odd kid and that would probably be an understatement. When my mom would take me to the library near our house in DE I became fascinated by the book check out process. The grey haired librarian would take the hard cover books and stack them neatly on the counter in front of her and one by one, open to the back flap and pull the borrowers date card from the Manila flap taped to the back. Then she'd stamp it with the return date, telling my mother that her best sellers were due back sooner than my Little House on the Prairie books. I always took out too many books from the library at one time and almost never finished them. In the second grade there was a summer reading contest and I spent more time in the pool than I did with my books. I remember the panic I felt as the days to school grew ever closer and I hadn't even read the required five. I skulked to my moms bookshelf and wrote down the names of the books she had there. Danielle Steele, Stephen King, Nora Roberts and other books I probably shouldn't have been reading just to add some weight to my list. I turned in my list of the 53 books I had read that summer on the first day of school. I chose to list 53 because it seemed like an arbitrary number. As if I had time to read 53 books but couldn't squeeze in that extra two. The top reader had read 113 books and I wondered if their mother's bookshelf simply had more books than mine.

Many, many years later I still lag behind my mom's passion for reading and she typically passes me more books than I pass along to her. She's recently joined a book club and the devout readers choose a new book a month. My mom kills that book in less than two weeks so she recently went back to our local library to become a member again. When she handed over her ID the librarian told her she needed to clear a fine from her record in order to join. My mom and I speak nearly everyday so when she called me on my bus ride from the city I had to let her call roll into voicemail. When I got off the bus - I checked it. "Hey, its me. Need to talk to you about the money you owe me-call me back". Instantly I think back to the parent loan they took out for me for college, the money I borrowed to buy my first car, the $20 bucks she sent me to Wal-mart with that I never gave her change for. All things she's never asked me to repay. I reluctantly hit her number on speed dial and wait for the wrath. "Hey! "She says like she always does, "Did you ever return that Laura Ingalls book to the Library?" Your ten year overdue fee is $2.15 and I'd like my money back please."