“The Reading Spot”
Twist, twist, push, quiet, push, quiet, a little harder and the door opens. It’s a heavy door, likely weighing more than her small body. She wouldn’t be in trouble for coming in here, she’s just trying to not draw attention to herself so she’s free to explore and “be” alone.
That girl loves this room. She loves the lines in the worn, cherry wood floor. She relishes the softness of the dark, oriental rug that makes her feet feel like she’s walking in the clouds. She enjoys the weight and texture of the heavy, brown drapes that cover the three floor-to-ceiling windows. She smiles each time she sees the chaotic mess on her dad’s desk; peppered with notes from her mom. But her favorite part of the room is the wall of books. Hundreds of books. Every color, every subject and every size.
She begins running her chubby hand across each of the shelves she can reach. Then she goes past the rows with only her eyes. Her brother often teases her about that lost-to-the-world look she gets when she concentrates like this. Only after examining her options does she slowly pull a book off the shelf. Her dad taught her books are to be treasured and treated as kindly as she’d treat her favorite dolls.
When the book slides from its spot, she adjusts the three surrounding books in the space to prevent any single one from bearing all the weight in the shift in the row. When the shelf is okay, she goes to her spot.
Her spot. Everyone in the family was able to pick their own chair, table and lap for their reading spot. She chose a bright red chair that came with an extra pillow. Her dad said it was too big for her, but when she told him she’d get a stepping stool to climb into it, he gave in. Her lamp sits high on the floor, with the fringes right in her grasp. She likes to run her finger through the fringe while she’s reading.
Today she has chosen one of her favorites. It’s a book about a little boy that’s new in town and makes friends with some kids in the neighborhood by teaching his turtle to fetch. The story is okay, but she mostly likes the pictures of the turtle. She’s intrigued by the shapes on the back and their shadings. She also is amazed by the way it can close up in its shell when it wants to hide.
She reads to words aloud to herself and the room. She’s read the book enough times that she really doesn’t have to look at the words. When the boy smiles in the story, she smiles too. When she reaches the infamous, “the end,” she closes the book and she gives herself a moment to think about what she’s read. Mrs. Smith told the class at the beginning of the year that you should always reflect on the things you’ve read so that you get something from what you’ve read. Different people can even get different things from the same story.
Today she realizes the neighbor boys were just as happy to have a new friend as the new boy was to be accepted. Their lives are all now richer.
The little girl returns the book to the shelf as delicately as she had taken it out. She always imagines the other books sighing relief as the order is returned to the shelf.
She then turns off the lamp, walks softly across the carpet and steps through the door. She then pulls, pulls, softly, pulls the door closed behind her until next time.
8:51:11 PM 
|
