Books, words, stories, plots, characters. These are all the things that have accompanied me as long as I can remember. Each night before bed, I would kneel before my bookshelf and run my hands over all the spines of my favorite stories and my friends. The likes of Mickie Mouse, The Littles, My Little Pony and, of course, The Berenstain Bears. My dad would sit on the edge of my bed and read the same beloved stories time and time again. As I got older, I started holding the books and reading along. Until one day, I was able to read them by myself. At that point, I never stopped. I would devour a book in an afternoon and pick up another. Then another after that one. It was a passion. An escape. The characters WERE my friends. I felt their pain and happiness. The butterflies fluttered in my tummy during Charlotte's Web. Their world was my world.
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