Sometimes the sweetest memories of times long ago, though hidden for stretches within some recess of our mind, can unexpectedly drift back into our consciousness. Oh how they can warm the soul and bring a beaming smile to our faces. Such happened to me the other day.
My daughter used to love for me to read to her. In some ways, I think it was the high point of her day. I only have to glance at her bookshelf or the boxes of books in her closet to be reminded of all of the adventurous roads that we have traveled together. As my eyes look over those spines, I can quickly get lost in those moments from years ago. Whether we would read together outside on the porch, or on the couch, or as I readied her for bed each night, our beginning ritual was always the same. She would use her palm to tap out the letters R-E-A-D-N-O-W. Usually she would be ready for me before I had even gathered our book, and her rhythmic tapping would be my signal that she was in place and eager to begin.
Now my daughter is reading through "Young Adult" novels up to 500 pages long and poring through them in short order. While I miss our time reading together, I know that I have passed onto her a love of reading. This will serve her well in life. When she reminded me of our ritual the other day, it brought to both our minds a sweet fragrance.