My Inner Indian

It is not unusual to look up and see my oldest daughter totally absorbed in reading a book.  She is an obsessive reader and it has become my parental challenge to keep her in books.  I was alarmed, however, to see her with big tears rolling down her cheeks while doing so.  She slowly closed her book and sat there and cried.  On the verge of being a moody little tween-ager,  I had to ask..."Gracie, what's wrong?"  She proceeded to explain that she just finished a series of books that she enjoyed and there were no more books to read in that series.  It was over.  She had to say goodbye to those characters and move on.  You'd have thought somebody she knows very well in real life had died.

Oh, the drama.

I breathed a small sigh of relief.  She then asked me what my favorite book was.  I used to love to read and always had a book in progress, but the last book I had read was What To Expect When You Are Expecting, which if you don't know is the worst book ever written to tell pregnant women what all COULD happen...and to EXPECT it!

Gracie then wanted to know why I didn't read any more.  The plain truth is I didn't think I had time any more.  Since becoming a wife and mother my time was filled with other things and books didn't make the Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs pyramid.  It was replaced with laundry, cooking, cleaning, and being the finder of lost things.  For the last twelve years I have told myself I didn't have time for books.  My child, the lover of books, told me that was the saddest thing she had ever heard.  Ever.  She publicly vowed that she would never let things get in the way of her love for books.

It broke my heart and my inner Indian cried.

My mind flashed to the Keep America Beautiful campaign/ public service announcement against littering that used to be in heavy rotation way back in my childhood.  The crying Indian standing on the side of the highway mourning people's trashy habits.  Tears for people who did not appreciate the beauty of what surrounded them.  Those big tears that rolled down his weathered face and the sadness in his eyes have haunted me to this very day.

So I promised her....as soon as the move is over....I would read a book. 

Move completed.  I read a book.  I did. I am in love with reading again and consuming books like they were puffy Cheetos. 

My inner Indian is now doing a happy dance despite the litter still on the side of the highway.