When I was 9 or 10, my parents came home with a tiny block of triangular wood, cut in the shape of
Nevada. My mom had written "Happy Oct 1st" on it with a blue ball point pen and triumphantly handed it to me after I had finished practicing piano. It was a simple gesture and the wood was mostly likely a end-scrap from a lumber yard, but I cherished it. For years, it sat on display in my parents' house - first on the piano, then the glass display shelves, and then a hallway table amongst family pictures. I'm not sure if it had the same meaning for my mother, but it always reminded me of her in a moment of genuine and simple happiness, so full of light and mirth. And even though that piece of wood is long lost, the memory is a lighthouse.
Twenty-five (ish) years later, and October 1st is one of the only family traditions I still hold close. I usually call my mom to bring each other a little joy, and then I do one simple and uncomplicated thing to make myself as happy as I remember her being. A few years ago, I treated myself to 2 pieces of pie and a bottomless cup of coffee for dinner. And one year, very early in my career, I left work early to read my book in the park and enjoy the fading sun - both of which were quickly becoming precious commodities.
To this day, being immersed in a book is still one of my greatest pleasures. There are entire parts of my brain/heart/life that only come to life when reading and I've passed months, maybe even years, of my life in this state. When I first moved back here I was so excited about all the books I would inhale, and had so many things lined up to read. I had dozens of ebooks checked out or on hold from the public library, a new and maxed out Kindle Unlimited membership, and about a dozen print books squirreled away in my luggage (because nothing can replace the weight/smell/feel of those pages).
But for months, I had difficulty gripping a story the way I wanted. My head was too crowded, too full of meaningless minutiae, and too accustomed to constantly being busy. The best I could muster were a few short spurts throughout the day - often times while my mind raced across 10, 15, 20 different topics. I can't tell you how many times I had to reread the same pages.
But now, after months of working at it nearly everyday, I am finally able to read and read and read to my heart's content. I've remembered the art of emptying my mind and focusing on just one thing at a time, and enjoying it. It's a long awaited and beautiful thing, and I am oh-so-happy to be here.
So today, on this Happy October 1st, I am going to order takeout and read all night.
