When I think of reading, only one thing comes to in my mind. The story my grandmother, she always told me when I was little, a fascinating story about a little girl like me who loved to read immensely.
What was that story like? Oh yes, I remember, the story of my childhood was something like this:
Once, not long ago, there was a little girl who loved to read, day and night, at school, at her grandparents, at home, outside, you always saw her with a book in her hand. Ioana was a girl without many friends, mysterious as her colleagues called her and quiet, a good girl with A's on the line. Most of all she liked to read fantastic stories, about Greek or Roman gods, about wizards or monsters, but she also liked to read about people, about behaviors. The attic was her favorite place in the whole house, it was quiet, no one bothered her, she could read all day long and all her books were there. One summer day, as she was finishing a book she had just started that morning about the goddess of books in ancient Greek stories, she saw a blue flash under a stack of books from the same series. Curious, but also scared, she pushes the cards aside and sees a small blue gem that glittered brightly. She looked puzzled and trying to figure out what it was exactly dropped it in a book.
Then, all the books began to open, as if a gust of wind rushed the bridge and through a blinding flash, a little girl appeared in front of him with skin like the leaves of the books, with a gentle face. He seemed to be about the same age as her. Ioana backed away, scared by the creature in front of her, but she quickly remembered the story she had just finished. It was a book angel she had been reading about all day, her name was Vex.
She was so beautiful and knew every book you could dream of. Then, Ioana became her first friend, she called on her every day and they talked about books or she read the books she wanted but didn't have. She finally felt like a normal and accepted child, books were no longer a method of refuge for her, but a form of play, fun.
Reading was a real treasure for her. Once she started talking to this angel, she became an extrovert, talked to her classmates at school, and even started a book club. Reading had become a joy for all children, a relaxing game.
This angel had disappeared, leaving behind a new child, a new, much happier Joan who did good.
The end!
My grandmother always told me this story before I fell asleep, but about a week ago I discovered something amazing. In a book of grandma's I found her notes with, Vex.
Then I realized, she was the story that made me love reading, she was the introverted girl without many friends. I knew for a long time that my grandmother loved to read and that she was always first in school, but I did not think that she could be the idol of my childhood, the one who made me see reading through my child's eyes as a treasure. I talked to her, told her I found the notes. And then, with a warm smile, he entrusted me with the blue jewel. Vex was my family friend, the angel who always appeared when I finished or started a new book and the one who gave color to my life as a child who educated herself the most from the books she read with such great pleasure.
Reading through a child's eyes can be a treasure, a refuge, a help, but never a bad thing.
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