Reading to Cory is one of my favorite memories. I like to imagine all the board books, story books, chapter books, bits of novels, and one full novel stacked one on top of the other in a teetering pile that reaches the ceiling or maybe fills a room. I can lay in the dark and pull out her favorites in my mind, one after another, like Jenga. I can remember her little body curled into the contours of mine, leaning back and getting lost in the story. Then later, when she was practically a grown up herself, she'd lay down and listen so earnestly, declaring I should do audio books, which cracked me up.
I know if she'd have had children, she'd have read to them, and done all the voices to captivate her listener. She'd have given them books as gifts. Always. They would have prowled bookstores together.
They.
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