The tiniest fold

The biggest joy

Yesterday my daughter came home from school with a new library book.

(A new library book!!!!)

One of the new wonders of her first grade experience is getting to borrow books from her school library.

We’ve been traveling the road of learning to read over the past few years (probably before it made sense to… but alas).

As a 3 and 4 year old she loved sounds. Loved to play games with them, loved to group objects together by them, loved knowing what sounds each letter “said.”

Midway through Kindergarten, it slowed. She resisted. She didn’t want to practice. “It’s too hard, Mama.”

My heart began to ache. (Is this dramatic? Probably. But for a person who taught kids how to read for a living, the thought that she might not love it broke me a teeny bit.)

But this. Now.

I peaked in her room yesterday to find her sitting on her bed.

Paging through her new library book.

When she noticed I was there (was my smile too loud??) she looked up. Smiled.

Paused.

Folded the page.

(Swoon, Melt).

Something inside me simultaneously melted in happiness and exhaled a giant breath I didn’t know I was holding.

The tiniest action.

The finest fold.

The biggest feeling of joy and hope.

She’s a reading.

She’s a reader.