Glow by Lady E

  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 th...

  We started a book club.  Just some former students and family.  Some days, I read for him. Lightning, quests, monsters, boys learning how to be brave. The kind of stories that move fast, where the world is loud and alive and everything feels possible. And then… there are the other days. Where I reach for something slower. Denser. A world that doesn’t rush to explain itself. Where time stretches. Where loneliness has a shape. Where beauty lingers a little too long. It made me realize— I don’t read just one kind of story. Because I’m not just one kind of person. There is the version of me that sits beside my son, turning pages with him, meeting him where he is. Asking questions to him and his peers.  Asking them to write about the things they read.  And there is the woman who still seeks her own depth, her own questions, her own quiet. (And I’m rediscovering her.  For years I’ve kept her quiet.  My crowns demand a lot from me.  But now,...