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| The quiet ritual: a warm cup and an open page. |
When I was a child in my village, there were no books. Not because people did not want them. It was because there was no electricity, no money, no shop that sold them.
The only words we had were spoken. Stories from my grandfather. Songs from my mother. Instructions from my father.
Evenings were not silent. They were filled with voices. Someone telling a story. Someone asking a question. Someone laughing. Someone correcting. Words did not live on paper. They lived between people.
I learned to read late. Much later than my son will.
And when I finally held my first real book, something shifted inside me.
Not because the book was famous.
Because it showed me a world beyond my village. Beyond the goats and the buffalo. Beyond the river where my mother washed clothes.
For the first time, I felt like there was more.
More than what I could see. More than what I could touch.
And I was not part of it yet.
That feeling stayed with me for a long time.
Sometimes I felt embarrassed when other children talked about books I had never seen. I would stay quiet, pretending I understood things I didn’t.
I remember nodding at conversations I was not part of. Smiling at things I had never experienced. Trying not to be noticed.
There were days I told myself maybe books were not for people like me.
I did not say it out loud.
But I believed it.
Why Books Change Minds
A book is not just paper and ink.
It is a voice that reaches you without knowing your name.
When I read, I sit with someone who has lived a different life. Someone who has struggled, failed, learned, and tried again.
That person may live in another country. Another time. Another language.
But somehow, through the pages, we meet.
And slowly, something changes.
Not suddenly. Not loudly.
The way water changes the shape of a stone.
You do not notice it at first.
But one day, you realize you are thinking differently. Seeing differently. Questioning things you never questioned before.
And that is how change begins.
Not All Books Stay
Not every book stayed with me.
Some I left halfway. Some I did not understand. Some I finished but forgot.
There were nights when I opened a book and closed it again after a few minutes. My mind was tired. My focus was broken.
Sometimes the words felt heavy. Sometimes they felt far away.
I remember sitting there, frustrated, thinking I might never become the kind of person who reads deeply.
That maybe I started too late.
That maybe I missed something that other people had from the beginning.
But I kept trying.
Not because I was disciplined.
Because something inside me did not want to go back to not knowing.
The Night I Stopped Reading
One evening, I was reading again.
The room was quiet. The light was soft. I was trying to focus, trying to stay inside the words.
My younger son came and sat beside me.
He looked at my face. Then at the book. Then back at me.
After a while, he placed his small hand gently on the page.
Not moving. Not asking.
Just resting it there.
As if he was trying to understand what I was seeing for so long.
I did not turn the page.
I did not move his hand.
For a moment, everything became still.
The room. The air. Even my thoughts.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
No words.
Then slowly, he removed his hand and leaned his head on my arm.
Like he had accepted something he could not yet understand.
I did not continue reading after that.
Because in that moment, I understood something deeper than anything written in the book.
What Books Gave Me
My father gave me attention.
My mother gave me presence.
Books gave me perspective.
They did not replace what I did not have.
They showed me what was possible.
They helped me understand the world beyond my own life. And slowly, they helped me understand my own life better.
Not in one day.
Over years.
In quiet realizations.
In sentences that stayed long after the book was closed.
A Few That Stayed With Me
There are some books I could not leave behind.
Not because they are perfect.
Because they met me at the right time.
Sapiens made me question things I never questioned before. It made me see how small my life is, and at the same time, how connected it is to everything that came before.
The Alchemist found me when I felt lost. It did not give me answers. It gave me courage to keep moving.
Atomic Habits changed how I think about change. Not big efforts. Small steps. Again and again.
Rich Dad Poor Dad opened my eyes to money. Not how to earn fast, but how to think differently.
The Power of Habit made me look at my own patterns. My distractions. My “later.”
I did not read them perfectly.
But they stayed.
What I See Now
Now I sit in my apartment.
My phone is beside me. My laptop is open.
One child is crying.
The other is watching.
Sometimes he says, “Papa… kijk.”
Sometimes I say, “One minute.”
Sometimes that minute becomes something longer.
Sometimes I mean it.
Sometimes I don’t even realize how long it becomes.
And slowly, I see the difference.
Between being there and being available.
Between hearing and listening.
Between holding a book and holding a moment.
What I Am Learning
Reading is not about finishing books.
It is about what stays after you close them.
A sentence.
A feeling.
A question you cannot ignore.
And sometimes, it is not even about the book.
Sometimes it is about the moment when you stop reading and look at the person sitting beside you.
And choose them.
What You Will Learn
You do not need many books.
You need the right one.
At the right time.
And you need to be present enough to let it change you.
Not quickly.
But deeply.
A Request
Tell me something honestly.
Was there ever a book that stayed with you?
Not just in your hands.
But in your thinking.
In your decisions.
In your life.
Share it.
Someone else might be waiting for that one book.
Closing
Tonight, after my sons sleep, I may open a book again.
Or maybe I will just sit.
Maybe I will think about the boy who had no books.
And the man who has them now.
And the child who placed his hand on the page without understanding why.
Reading is not just about words.
And sometimes, the most important moment is not inside the book.
It is beside you.
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| Words that linger long after the book is closed. |
With love,
-Bitty
🙏❤️
Open a book.
But do not forget to look up.
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