The Things I Forgot I Loved

“Be still, and know that I am God..."
Psalms 46:10 NIV

In college, there have been a lot of things I've forgotten that I love. 

Writing used to be one of them. Now it's something I find myself returning to whenever I have a few spare minutes, like right now, sitting and procrastinating studying the cranial nerves.

But just today, I realized I had forgotten something else. 

I forgot that I love to read. 

Anyone who knows me is probably a little shocked reading that, but it's true. Somewhere between assignments and deadlines, reading became something I had to do, not something I got to enjoy. 

The Aeneid, Macbeth, and Dante's Divine Comedy... they're great and all, but they aren't exactly what I would reach for on my own. There's something exciting about choosing a book for yourself. It makes reading feel like an adventure again, because you're the one deciding what world you're stepping into. 

(To be honest, I have never dreamed of meeting Brutus in the ninth circle of Dante's Inferno. That is a world I hope to never venture into.) 

I think what I really forgot wasn't just reading itself, but what it feels like to enjoy it. 

A couple weeks ago, after a stressful day, I drove to the Birmingham Botanical Gardens. I brought a book with me, Just Once by Karen Kingsbury, and found my way to a swing tucked under a cluster of tall trees. 

It's the same swing my sister and I sat on when she visited me during my first semester. 

There was something about being back there that made everything slow down. It felt homey under the canopy of tree limbs and rustling leaves. The sound brought me back to memories of hiking trips with my family, the sound of nature. 

And for the first time in a while, I just read. 

No pressure. No assignment. No rushing to finish. 

Just reading. 

I felt like I had found my way back to something I didn't even realize I had lost. 

Signing out, 
Alexa

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