why i want to be Kathleen Kelly

an excerpt from my paper (Kyrie's) for mom
It was weekly event, when I was a small child, for my mother to drive my two sisters and me to the neighborhood library so we could pick out and bring home any books we chose. I remember scavenging the book shelves in the children’s section finding the ones with the best pictures when I was younger and then exciting chapter books once I could read. Being able to read gave me the same freedom that a driver’s license gives a sixteen year old. I don’t ever remember the library being a boring place. My mother’s animated reading voice still rings in my ears and when I hear her reading to some lucky three year old that visits my home I still feel comforted and silently thrilled. That sound is sweet to my ears. Her voice took me to other worlds and gave me exciting ideas about life. The swirling illustrations in some of those crinkly, plastic-covered library books still remain in my mind as if they had moved when my eager eyes had poured over them all those years ago. I don’t know how she did it. Looking back it was almost magic. Although my mother never actually purchased all those books for me, only a library card, those stacks of beaten books were and remain a precious gift. She imbedded in me a deep love for books. Though I’ve graduated from My Father’s Dragon and The Indian in the Cupboard, these books remain a deep part of my identity and inspired me to see what other fascinating people I can meet on the page. As I grow and discover the un-magical aspects of life I can still find comfort in reading a used, library-scented, yellow-paged copy of some classic novel during some uneventful car ride or weekday afternoon or the newest installment of the Harry Potter series in the dead of night. And anytime a four-year-old and a copy of Dr. Suess are in the same room with me I’ll pull them both onto my lap and see what kind of magic I can produce.