I can read.
I am a happy about it.
Reading means worlds open up to me that might not if I didn't know what all those weird squiggles on the page meant.
I can lose myself in a book, communicate with friends and relatives online, and read a note from my husband telling me where he went while I was out.
Without reading it is unlikely I could write. I could dictate stories for others to put on paper or computer file, but I would never see for myself what I said and neither could I check the accuracy of what was written for me.
We often forget to acknowledge our basic skills. We may not need reading to survive, but it does help considerably.
It is something to build on, to use to our advantage, and to enjoy.
It's right under our very noses all the time and I've been taking it for granted.
Today I'd like to rectify that.
I can read, and I am grateful for the skill.
The Fall Creek Review
4 hours ago