Early Literacy Memories

Ever since I was little, books of different genres have been accompanying me in my personal and education life. Overwhelming books looking at me from oak shelves, my father holding thick manuscripts, my mother putting her educational pamphlets on place, my grandma quenching thirst for knowledge before going to bed, myself trying to find what kind of book I burn to hold and read; all that surrounded me back in early life. I remember my dad reading sophisticated books, historical memoires, and fantasy editions full of scary images. Whenever I asked him what reading is for him, the answer was quite brief – we need to read in order to survive. Back in that days, that statement was of limited understanding to me. I did walk and breeth – why I needed to anxiously read in order to keep living. At that point, books were just written texts for me that I couldn’t crack as I had lost my key or even had never found it.

As for my literacy experience with mom, I remember her sitting and writing with enthusiasm. If you ask me about what I would never tell. I knew that she had been writing dissertation, a thesis of her life, a foundational basis that helped to find the unique meaning. Interestingly, but she was never sensitive for words. The writing was not a process of perceiving the sense, feeling the pulse, but just a combination of sentences that, eventually, would constitute a completed set of ideas.

What do I have to do with all those memories?? How could I find the key to my literacy?? My personal literacy?? I want to find my way of expressing my personal meaning. I want to find the way to construct the meaning in a way I imagine it. Do I have to follow grammatical structures?? Can I be overwhelmed with emotions when composing??

I think that this is a big issue for me now. Why?

#Writingmakessense #Books #Childhood