I fall in love with love all the time yes me the happy disbelieving cynic is a closet romantic. The first time I fell in love I was 4, the objection of my -undying- affection was 12 his name was Robert he was tall dark and handsome. OK he was taller than me and he was dark the handsome part debatable.
I remember the first time I saw him, I was walking home with my mom and little toddler eyes fell on him and my little heart went pitter patter. I stopped walking turned to my mom and said: "Mom I am going to marry that boy", pointing at Robert who was walking with his dad. My mother was glad I had decided to marry a boy as I had already told her that I didn't want to have babies I wanted to have a monkey instead (a story for another day.)
My mom being the sweet supportive woman replied: "I am so glad you like Robert, when you are older you can tell him." Like him? no mom I am in LOVE WITH HIM. My mom knows me so she says of course honey you are in love with him, but I could here the note of humor in her voice and I was miffed. Apparently the old lady thought that --> I at the ripe old age of 4 could not love. Well I would show her. I was going to study love. And I knew exactly what to do and where to go: books were the answer.
Growing up my mom had stacks of romance novels all over the house, I learned how to read Spanish much to the -joy- horror of my poor mother. Determined to show my mom and Robert of course I would sit in the living room sounding out words and learning the language. One day I got to a big word, knowing that my mom always said if you cant read it after trying ask for help, I walked over to her in the kitchen where she was cooking. Hey mom what is this word?
My mom looked down, she saw the cover and she looked at me the way you look at a potential suicide threat on the ledge. "Honey you know how to read in English, that book is in Spanish," her words were light but I could see the tension in her eyes.
"I can read in Spanish, listen, my voice falter as I sounded out words: he stroked her stomach up his hand heading lower to her-" the book was snatched faster out of my hand than that one time I played with a zippo lighter. In retrospect the zippo lighter was less hot than the book. After that incident my mothers book collection went from stacks on coffee table, on chairs, on top of the TV to hidden like illegal contraband.
Did I learn about love that day? No, but I learned that I could read Spanish and scare my mom talk about a total win. But I digress, my point is that when ever I have wanted to learn something I have turned to books, even when a teacher would ask if I needed extra help I would ask if they could recommend a book.
My favorite books have all taught me something: a joke, a new song, poem, word etc. I believe all great books are like that we all walk away learning something. As I work on my novel, I have a certain character that is learning, but I find that I am learning right along with him.
The super awesome books on the other hand scare our parents, so in that honor go out and pick up a banned book.
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