I’m going snowboarding with my family today. It’s an all-day trip from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. Days like this are magical with one exception: the lack of books. I love being outside, breathing air so cold that it both tightens and relaxes my lungs at the same time. I savor being with my kids, making memories, and balancing on a waxed snowboard. But I also have a nagging feeling that something’s missing.
I feel robbed when events get in the way of reading. While I’m plummeting down the mountain toward my death, I’ll feel a little sad that I didn’t get to read today. Books fill me up. They give me the emotional energy I need to face people, conflicts, and black diamond moguls. Ok, I’ll probably be on the kiddy hill the whole time – no judgment, please.
Many of you will roll your eyes and tell me to get a life, that reading isn’t that important. After all, life is for living, not sitting in a chair and highlighting books.
I agree. I do. Just don’t get mad at me if I sneak a book up the slopes and take a few minutes for myself. 😉
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