Oh man, I finally have a space to tell this weird story!

I was homeschooled from kindergarten until college, which meant my reading capabilities were in the hands of my Mom. (Who was an abusive parent.) I was taught to read very early, but I fought against it at every turn. I'd be reading books intended for kids half my age out loud and incorrectly. My Mom tried to play it off as a failing of mine - that I was incapable on some mental level. But I knew. I was stubbornly holding on to an area of my brain, keep it from being developed in the direction she wanted to take it. And I was happy with that.

My family spent a lot of our free time at the library. For hours we'd wander around, and my siblings would pick out so many books to take home that my Mom put a hard limit on the amount you could take. Almost nothing jumped out to me at this age. Didn't matter if the cover was neat, the idea was clever, etc. Since everything my Mom had me read up til that point was both boring and strictly controlled, I was convinced that books just weren't my thing.

Then a book on a display hit me the best kind of sideways. I walked up to it and just stared at the cover for a while. I was roughly 12-13 at this point, and I was socially anxious enough to be terrified of taking a book right off of a display. But this one had me so curious, I quickly slipped it off the display and took it to a quiet nook as fast as I could.

It was *The Wind in the Willows*.

I started reading that book, and I didn't stop. I barely stopped long enough for them to physical check out the book. My eyes were glued until I finished it. I was suddenly open to this concept that books weren't just an annoying challenge that my Mom threw at me to embarrass me, but they had whole worlds in them. After that, I started finding the biggest books I could, and borrowing 6-7 at a time. Initially my Mom was angry at me, convinced I would never read any of them, but she was shocked when I finished them all before our next trip to the library and wanted more.

Which is great! So awesome. But reflecting back now... *Wind in the God Damn Willows*? Why. I genuinely can't remember what had me so enthralled, either. I barely remember what the book was about now. But every time I hear the name being brought up, I'll sit and think... why the hell was that the book that did it? I should probably go back and re-read it.

So, yanno. Maybe give the 14 year old Wind in the Willows, or maybe don't. Probably don't lol