Book Blogger Hop: June 24th

The Book Blogger Hop, hosted by Jennifer at Crazy-for-Books, is a weekly event. Every Friday she posts a question and several book bloggers share their answers.

This is actually my first time participating in the Book Blogger Hop. Every week, my Google Reader is full of posts from this hop, but for some reason I never joined in. However, when I read this weeks question I knew I had to participate.

This weeks question:

“When did you realize reading was your passion and a truly important part of your life?”

If you ask my mom, she will tell you that I have been reading and writing constantly since I learned how, but that just her observation. My love of reading actually came from my grandparents, but more specifically my grandmother.

The reason I felt compelled to participate this week is because my grandmother passed away recently. I haven’t really talked about it much yet, because I haven’t found the words. In fact, I’m actually still processing everything that happened, but I feel the need to share this.

One of the things that my grandmother and I always shared was books. When I was growing up she would read to me, or we would read our separate books, but do it together (curled up in the living room, etc.) I used to spend a couple of weekends a month at her house, and she would always take me book shopping and positively spoil me with several new books each trip. I remember every night she and my grandfather would get into bed, put on their glasses, and read their books before falling asleep. Being around reading was a regular thing for me.

As I went into elementary school I kept reading. I’m pretty sure I exhausted my school’s collection of Great Illustrated Classics, Roald Dahl, and Boxcar Children books. When the school would have the book fair I would come home with a stack of new books to read. My grandmother always wanted to hear about what I was reading. Once I started getting older, she would even tell me about what she was reading – my grandmother had a thing for murder mysteries, which at eight years old I was not so interested in. As my taste in books changed, I started reading some of the books that my grandmother did. She would give me recommendations, and I would give her my two cents. It was simply one of our things.

It was those trips to the bookstore and the time spent reading and discussing books with my grandmother as a kid that I realized my passion for reading, and it was her sharing her love for reading which built the foundation for mine.