i rarely indulge in reading. i guess because i know if i start an engaging book, i won't stop until the end...which is what happened last night. just before dusk, the girls and i returned from the beach, sandy and exhausted from the wind and sun. aut went to the shower, rea to sleep, and i on the floor with a new book my mom couldn't stop talking about, the glass castle.
after reading the first chapter, i was absorbed into the author's childhood, imagining each of her makeshift homes in the small shabby towns that she lived...and the chaotic episodes that she bore with grit and without self pity.
i read all night until the last page...convinced that bean's memoirs would be equally engaging, humorous and triumphant. i know when he's ready, he'll put his story to paper.