By the time I enrolled in sixth grade, it was indisputable that a passion for the written language existed.  The seeds had been planted at a kitchen table where I sat with my father and Sunday's comics.  As he read aloud each speech bubble, I diligently attempted to connect the words to the illustrations.  Yes, the drawings were attractive and amusing, but I understood it was the words that created meaning, and so I desired to have mastery of them without my father's guidance.  As soon as I grasped the music of letters and began locking words into memory, nothing could slow my momentum.  

With learning to read came unlimited front row access to various lessons, experiences, and perspectives.  I observed the Berenstain Bear family display the morals and values my parents were instilling in me.  I accepted the challenge to ignore the limitations of my age as I tagged along with the Alden siblings on their many adventures and mysteries in The Boxcar Children.  I dared to become acquainted with things that go bump in the night on R.L. Stine's Fear Street.  I laughed through the tellings of a girl who wouldn't take the garbage out and Captain Hook who couldn't pick his nose to see exactly Where the Sidewalk Ends with Shel Silverstein. It was during middle school I gained the confidence to craft and share my stories that were partially inspired by the many authors who had invited me into their worlds, and therefore, my appreciation for literature deepened.   

It is an appreciation that abounds today.  My literary journey allows me to understand that a relationship with text removes boundaries, expands mindsets, stretches the imagination, and educates the curious.  I endeavor to support our youth as they partake in their journies regardless if they began earlier at the age of infancy or later as a preteen.  It is a journey, indeed, worth having.