As far back as I can remember I was surrounded by books. My mother loves them and our bookshelves were always overflowing. Even though she was very busy she often took time to read to us and I remember sitting on the floor earnestly listening as she read The Twenty One Balloons, or Fantastic Mr. Fox.
She is a constant source of inspiration and encouragement to me. She’s been with me since the beginning when I would get so excited about a scene that I had to share it. Even though they were painfully bad she still saw some good in them. She listens when I get discouraged and cheers my successes.
So much of who I am is because of who my mother was. It is because of her love of literature and reading that I grew to love it and it is because of her belief in my writing that I can believe in myself. Thank you mom, Happy Birthday.