From newborn to teenager, my mom would read to me every night.  What began with Little House on the Prairie transitioned to Toni Morrison.

Reading was a consistent part of my sometimes chaotic childhood that I came to rely upon.

Growing up it was just something we did, nothing unusual.

Mom would start in my youngest brother's room, picking up where they left off in The Last Book of the Universe, she would then move to my sisters room, A Collection of Bedtime Stories. Finally, ending in my room, she would pick up where we had left off the night before.

By high school I coveted her editing assistance with my papers. In college I would often find myself making the 30-minute drive home to go over my drafts.

It was her nightly reading that I credit my writing skills, but more than that, she gave me a love of putting my thoughts down on paper.

What many would say is the opposite of a writing degree, I pursued numbers. Deciding last minute to apply for a Masters in Accounting,  I had less than 2-weeks to prepare for the GMAT.  Consisting of Math and English, I was most worried about the math sections, I was applying to an accounting program after all.

The day of the test I breezed through the English section, spending the majority of my time focused on math.

When the score popped up on the screen, I laughed, 60 percentile Math, 99 percentile English.

While this may land on my failure resume, it was enough for my acceptance to the program and ultimately landed me a career in accounting. A decade later I still find myself passionate about finance and in a job I love.

As a mom now, I have found there are many hills I can choose to die on. I decided early on that if I wanted to do anything well, I’d have to choose which things were important to me. Reading became one of them.

“Books in Bed! Books in Bed!” My boys chant.

They have become accustomed to our nightly routine, me cuddling next to them, reading book after book. Often pulling the ‘mom trick’ of skipping over pages in books that I have deemed far too long.

Now a daughter added to our family, I once again snuggle her warm body against mine, reading her stories and thinking of all the bedtime books that are to come.

Thank you Mom for choosing the hill of reading to stake your claim in, my story continues to be written because of it.

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