My Favorite Memories Of My Reading : My Love Of Reading

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As a five year old I loved to read or be read to. When I grew older, my love of reading grew with me. I read any book or magazine I could find. One of my favorite memories I have is reading all the child magazines I could find while waiting to get my tonsils removed. My dad and I did all the puzzles, found all the differences in the “spot the difference” pictures, and he read me all the articles. It is one of the best memories I have of my dad and with reading. Along with reading magazines, I also loved to read books. Some of my favorite books to read as a kid were The Giving Tree and Brown Bear, both by Shel Silverstein. I was so obsessed with The Giving Tree that you might think I would grow up to be a kind, caring, generous person, but you know what it means to assume. As I entered my teens, I read constantly. In the winter I could be found wrapped up in a blanket or two, with several pairs of socks on, sitting by the fireplace. I loved to read and as soon as I finished my homework, I’d assume my position and read for hours. One of the most memorable things about these fireside readings was that I was reading on my Nook, which held all my books and a store for me to find, sample, and buy more. The Nook probably inspired me to read more than anything else had because it held my wishlist and suggested books to me that I actually liked (not like when a teacher suggests a book and you act excited to read it but only read one page and return it to the library the next day). Because my love of reading grew with me, it only makes sense that it spiritually died with me. Coincidentally, both tragedies occurred at the same time. I had a bad experience with books when I was in Eighth Grade. I fell in love with a series by a low-key author, Morgan Rice, and this series had at least ten books (which should’ve been heaven and it was believe me). The thing is, more and more books were added to the series just for the sake of dragging it on. I’m not kidding when I say all the problems were solved and something outrageous like a magic enchanted meteor would fall out of the sky to create a new story. It was ridiculous and I had become discouraged. The feeling I had could rightfully be compared to slowly rotting away while

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