Do you remember when life was simple? A time when all your worries were about yourself. If there was no homework, or chores, to be done then you were free. You hadn’t begun to overthink the world yet, all that mattered was what was straight in front of you. Being a child is so much more simple, although they would probably disagree.
There was a time in my life when, if what was in front of me was a book, that would be all that was of importance to me. I still get there sometimes, but now it tends to be for a much shorter time. I have to read in shorter sessions, although I easily read more then when I was a child.
One particular memory always returns to me when I think about reading as a child. That was the day when I got my hands on the latest Dr Who book. Oh my god, the excitement was too much to handle. As soon as I was allowed, off to my room I went. Once I opened that cover and turned to the first page I could hardly breathe. This was my life, my obsession. I remember lying on my bed and not leaving my room, or that story until I had devoured it all. Page after page was turned. What will happen next? Could those Daleks be any more despicable?
There was only one problem, there was a sad ending. The sadness was that the story couldn’t go on forever. Three hours of my life, too short and could never be repeated. The story had to end, it did, and I closed that book with a sense of wonder, as well as a little regret.
Words © Neil Hayes and neilhayeswrites
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