Summer

For nine months of the year I am a slave to schoolwork and dream of the endless hours I'll spend reading in summer. That's a leftover dream from being a kid... when the dream actually came true. I remember one summer where I stayed up reading until truly ungodly hours of the middle of the night, all summer long. I read Gone With the Wind, and most of the works of Thomas Costain, and Lloyd Douglas, Jerry Jenkins, Bodie Thoene (who I can't keep up with anymore) L.M. Montgomery, and many others when I was about 14. In some ways, I travelled more in those summers nights than I have in real life. I was reading for entertainment, for adventure, and for suspense. Now my summers consist of 40 hours a week working, hours at church, hours with friends, hours cleaning the corners of the house that have been neglected for three terms, hours doing everything but read... I'm trying to be responsible here. But I have managed a few hours reading too. Sometimes it's my only escape, my only adventure, and my only vacation.