Never Come Up For Air

I wish sometimes I could just live in a book and never come up for air. I think of all the stolen moments of my childhood, holed up in my bedroom diving into worlds of espionage, 18th century Britain– even worlds made up from myth, legend, and hearty imagination.

I remember sunny afternoons on a blanket in the front yard, my book the only shade from the sun. There were days when I stole moments in the pages at any free time I could. Breaks between classes. Over my lunch plate. Even at pauses in conversation.

Everywhere I went, I carried a book.

Some things have not changed.

And yet everything seems to have changed. The whole world has changed, and nothing seems as certain as pages beneath my fingers, hobbits at the gate, or Gatsby gazing across the Sound. Nothing seems big and possible anymore, over the moon fantastic. Reading is still an escape, but it’s also become a chore.

Find the time. Prioritize. Stay up later. Grab moments here and there.

Sometimes I wish I could live in a book, but not just any book–the books that opened my mind as a child. The books that made the world seem wide and wild, and yet completely at my fingertips.

I supposed what I REALLY want is to read again with the wonder of a child.

Prose Lovers! Do you ever feel this way? Just a strong sudden push for the nostalgic. I would love to hear some of your favorite books, especially those that have stayed with you since childhood.

For me, Little Women is one that I still reread to this day, and it takes me right back to the feeling I had as a child, curled up in an armchair next to the wood stove, reading as the sun sparkled off the snow outside. The Great Gatsby is another that I discovered as a young teenager, and then quickly read through all the F. Scott Fitzgerald I got my hands on.

Any of you Prose Lovers writers as well? What authors and writers have most influenced your style or inspired you to write in the first place?

I would love to hear from you 💕

P.S. If you would like to see how Fitzgerald influenced my early writing, you can click on the post below. It was written at the height of my obsession. Enjoy 🙂

11 thoughts on “Never Come Up For Air

  1. I remember those Walter Mitty-esque (outdated reference, I know) days well, especially during the trying times when living inside the limitless vista pages of a book was preferable to existing in the real world.
    Those were the halcyon days when the top answers to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” were things like a policeman, firefighter, and astronaut, when we built things with our hands, when the American Dream still retained some of its wholesome value, and when the imagination applied to the written word was a hundred times better than any special effect that Hollywood could create.
    Anyway, job well done! Cheers!


  2. I’m a big reader too!🙌💕✨

    I think the way you feel about reading book is such a lucky, blessed thing…it doesn’t always happen to meet all these “page-turners” that make you willing to sacrifies sleep😌❤️

    PS: I admire you…I tried reading Great Gatsby a couple years ago but…the vocabulary is too difficult that made me wonder if I’m really reading story or dictionary😂 I’ll try reading it again, since everyone says it’s a great book🤞

    Liked by 1 person

    • I do love Gatsby, but I totally understand what you mean about the vocabulary. It’s not the easiest or very modern, and almost every time I read it I notice something I didn’t before… there’s a part where the main character is drunk, and I always thought it was the weirdest section of the book. I didn’t understand it when I was young. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized he’s writing from the perspective of a very drunk man so that’s why it felt so strange. 😂

      Liked by 1 person

  3. What a beautiful manifestation. Bookworms are wonderful. I love bookworms. I know that my family and relatives always look at me with misgivings and censure because of my love for books, which is a priority for me. Still, my love continues. Once one is bitten by the bookish bug, one is infected with such a love forever…


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