Some of my fondest memories when I was a young lad was snuggling in bed and having my mom read me stories. There were a variety of books an enjoyed, but the most memorable books were "The Chronicles of Narnia" by C.S. Lewis. Short story books were great and all, as my mother said, she much rather read an adventurous meaningful chapter book that would last longer than a ten-page book. I think my mom was afraid to read the same book every night to me as a regular routine.
I loved listening to my moms voice tell the story, any other person even attempting to read a story wasn’t as satisfying as her significant ability. Its not that the story itself made me think, it was the words she was saying. Words I didn’t understand she would explain to me in a way id understand. She’d say the word and id answer back. She would use the word in a sentence and I would understand it maybe a little bit but I felt as though I was growing up. Learning how grown adults talked. That’s what I remember the most about childhood stories. Often time I wish she would still read to me the way she used to.
