A Few Pages at a Time

 

Last month, I shared some of the books currently sitting on my reading list.

One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Rich People Problems.

Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters.

And recently, I added - 

The Apothecary Diaries.

They are still my current reads.

Yes, all three of them. (Taking a break from Percy.)

And no, I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.

I found my way back to reading recently, something that made me incredibly happy. I missed disappearing into stories. I missed meeting characters who didn’t exist until I opened a book and suddenly they were following me around inside my head. I missed that delicious feeling of wanting to know what happens next.

What I didn’t suddenly find, however, was an abundance of free time.

Life continued happening.

I had orders to make. Things to pack. Work to finish. A home to run. Ideas demanding attention.

There were days when I wanted to read but couldn’t find an hour to disappear into a book.

Sometimes I couldn’t even find thirty minutes.

And I could have easily turned that into another thing to feel guilty about.

I could have looked at those unfinished books and thought, I should be reading more.

But why?

When did reading become another productivity metric?

I don’t remember picking up novels because I wanted to improve my weekly statistics.

I read fiction because I love stories.

I read because sometimes I want to leave my own world for a while and wander into someone else’s.

I read because it is enjoyable.

Because it is relaxing.

Because there is something wonderful about lying down at the end of a long day, opening a book and letting somebody else do the storytelling for a change.

None of that requires me to finish a certain number of books every month.

So lately, I’ve given myself permission to read differently.

Sometimes I read a chapter.

Sometimes several.

And sometimes?

I read one page.

Just one.

Then life calls me back.

The book doesn’t mind.

It waits.

That has become one of my favorite things about reading again. There is no deadline hiding between the pages. Gabriel García Márquez isn’t tapping his foot impatiently because I haven’t returned to Macondo quickly enough. The Young family will continue having rich people problems without my supervision. Maomao will still be there when I come back.

The stories aren’t going anywhere.

I can return tomorrow.

Or next week.

Or tonight, if I suddenly find ten quiet minutes.

A few pages at a time.

And perhaps that is also why I have stopped feeling guilty about something else I do:

I read several books at once.

My ADHD brain has absolutely no interest in maintaining a monogamous relationship with one book. 😆

Sometimes I want something sweeping and literary, so I reach for One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Sometimes I want wealthy people behaving spectacularly, so Rich People Problems wins.

Sometimes my brain wants intrigue, medicine and Maomao, and I pick up The Apothecary Diaries.

Why should I force myself to read whichever book I happened to start first when another one is calling to me that night?

This isn’t homework.

There won’t be an exam.

I am allowed to follow my curiosity.

In fact, I think allowing myself that freedom has helped me fall in love with reading again.

There is no pressure to finish.

No imaginary race.

No little voice insisting that a proper reader should be doing more.

Just books waiting around my home for whenever I have a little time to give them.

Maybe that’s twenty pages.

Maybe it’s five.

Maybe tonight it’s one.

One page still counts.

Because the point isn’t how quickly I reach the last page.

The point is everything I get to experience along the way.

So if there is a half-read book sitting beside your bed, another one tucked into your bag, and three more with bookmarks sticking out somewhere around your house, I don’t think you have a reading problem.

I think you have options.

Pick whichever one you want.

Read for as long as it feels good.

Then close the book when life asks for you again.

It will wait.

And when you come back, you can simply turn the page.

A few pages at a time. 📚

—-

With elegance and quiet fire,
Lady E

Founder, Glow by Lady E 
An editorial space for stories, art, and intentional living