I had a mother who read to me.
She sat next to my bed in the evenings and read to me.
She sat on the couch, in between my brother and me, and read to both of us.
When I was sick (which was often) and lying on the bathroom floor, my mother would sit on the floor with me, and she would read to me.
Her voice, her presence, that river of words, the miracle of story—shaped the whole of my life.
I’m saying this now because last Thursday was World Read Aloud Day.
If you missed it, don’t worry–you can make today or tomorrow or the next day be World Read Aloud Day.
You can make every day World Read Aloud Day.

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