As a child and teenager, books were my whole life. They breathed life into me, they shaped me, they comforted me. I moved from France to Ireland in my early 20’s and multiple factors led me to being a non-reader for a few years. Living in an English speaking country, I was not as comfy with the language as I am now, I was constantly hopping from English to French in my attempts at reading books. Online book shopping and the Kindle were not as popular back then; reading in French meant having books sent from France. The cost was so high that I quickly gave up.
As an only child, I had a very solitary upbringing. In Ireland, I was house sharing and our never ending group of friends was constantly visiting, partying, staying over. It was a whirlwind of a time for me as those good friends helped shape the adult I was becoming, they supported me, entertained me and loved me. They were my new books, my new stories. Together, we created our own lives and as a young adult, this was all I could ever ask for, I was surrounded by a wonderful group of people who made me feel safe and secure.
Many years have passed since then, some friends now live far away, some are still close by. We all moved on from our life on top of each other. Friendship turned into love as I married my favourite of them all and we now live in a cottage in the countryside. We are all grown-ups now. I stopped reading early in my adulthood, life caught up with me, my career kept me busy, slowly my reading life was a distant memory.
Some other time, I may share with you what led me back to reading with a childlike wonder, while in my thirties. Suddenly I remembered how important books were to me as a child. Although I had read a few books over the years, it was not in the way that I do now: devouring, seeking, loving, being rescued, being taught and loving it so much that I cannot imagine a good life without reading.