In my childhood I loved to visit my cousins’ home.  Especially when a sleepover was included. At bedtime we gathered on the pillows, tucked in close to my aunt, listening intently to the story she read. Soon we were transported to places we had never been, meeting fascinating characters we didn’t know. 

These and many other bedtime stories helped me discover the power of books as fuel for my brain. I learned that books carried meaning and often contained enticing stories. I learned new words as I listened. Delightful bits of language sometimes with rhythm and rhyme became part of my thinking and spoken language. I learned I could create pictures in my mind that were like watching a movie. I was becoming a reader even when the books were too difficult for me to read the words by myself. 

I now have grandchildren who love bedtime stories. We have read many together. And, I experience a special delight when I find them reading bedtime stories to each other.