I’m a reader and have been since I was a very little girl. I distinctly recall the surge of power I experienced as I sounded out the word Mayflower on the side of a big rig parked beyond the window of the truck stop diner on one of my family’s many road trips. From then on, I was hooked.
As a teenager, I often found myself slogging through the halls of my small town high school, bleary-eyed from staying up way past midnight to finish just one more chapter. In my twenties, when I was part of the corporate world in Boston, I normally read through my lunch hour and the daily commute to and from the city was spent with my nose buried in the pages of a paperback. Later, once I’d become a mother, I learned the art of turning pages while juggling babies, bottles and diapers.
I have fond memories of reading wherever I happened to be, including some unusual places. My girlfriends love to tease me about the day they found me curled up with a book in a public ladies’ room at the Bellagio Hotel on one of our girls’ trips to Vegas. Then, there was the time I accompanied my husband to his company Christmas party. No, I didn’t bring a book along that night, but was reminded of another time I had while being introduced to one of his colleagues’ wives. The woman grinned and said, “I remember you. You’re the lady who brought a book to the Diamondbacks game the company put together last summer. I was so jealous,” she added and shot her husband a chastising glare. “I planned to bring my own book that day, but he wouldn’t let me.”
But, my all-time favorite reading memory is from my eighteenth year. Summer was in full swing and I was working at the local cinema. My best friend earned mad money slinging pizza dough at her parents’ sub shop. As it happened, we discovered we both had a rare day off, so we headed to the beach, of course. As usual, I brought a paperback romance along.
We arrived at about eight in the morning and set up our blanket and chairs. Then I started to read. Out loud, while my friend listened. We were interrupted a few times, by friends who stopped by to say hello and for a half hour as we walked down to the café to buy a sandwich, but ten hours later, I finished and closed the book. My friend and I shared a sigh and a grin, then both spent the night nursing the blisters of our severe sunburns.
And if I got the chance to do it again, I’d do so willingly. I’m not exactly sure, but I believe the book was a Kathleen E Woodwiss title, however, the title and author don’t matter. Only the memory does and the continued love of reading that day inspired.
|My phone doubles |
as a paperback.
Thirty years later, my love of romance still holds true and my favorite place to read is the beach. Unfortunately, shorelines are scarce here in Phoenix, which is another reason I’m thrilled my son and his fiancé have chosen a cruise for their wedding this December. I see some beautiful reading spots in my future, but in the meantime, my backyard pool is a fine alternative.
(Yes, that's me poolside in my back yard.)
What about you? Do you have a favorite reading memory or place to read?
When Mac isn’t lounging poolside with a new romance, she’s busy weaving happily-ever-afters for her characters, like Chef Meggy Calhoun, the heroine of The Billionaire’s Con, Mac’s small-town romance (inspired by her home town of Saugus, MA) available at The Wild Rose Press and wherever e-books are sold.