Saturday, April 21, 2012

Reading in Bed

I've always been a reader. I gobble up books the way my husband gobbles up fruit.  I teach English Education, so there's a lot of reading connected to my job during the academic year--all the books I assign in my courses and many student papers.  But I still keep one or two (or more) books going at home, nibbling at them whenever I have a few minutes, and I every year I look forward to a book feast that lasts all summer long.  When my children were young, sometimes, on Saturday mornings, I used to wish I could just stay in bed and read.  This morning I got my wish.  And maybe it's because it is a cold, rainy Saturday with no real plans--no one is home on break or home for the weekend; the son who lives nearby is gone to Boston; and since we're still transitioning to the empty nest and not very social to begin with, we haven't developed a circle of friends to spend time with on weekends.  Or maybe it's because there was no busy life of kids and cereal bowls and Matchbox cars and coloring books to step back into when I was finished reading in bed. Whatever the reason, although it was nice, it wasn't really as great as I always imagined it would be.  I'd trade it in a heartbeat to be part of a scene like this again on a rainy Saturday morning:

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