Books in Times of Change

By Aisha Marie

My love affair with books began a very long time ago. I was just a little girl in Rose Lake when I used to watch my sister, Sandi, and my brother, Taz, as they sat at the kitchen table doing homework. What they were engaged in looked important—they had books and paper and pencils!—and I wanted to be part of it. But they didn’t need me around, asking questions, getting in their way.

I told Mom that I had to go to school, too.     

“You can’t go to school yet,” she responded.      “You’re only three years old. You can start school when you’re six.”

“I am six, and I need to go to school.”

“No, you’re only three. You’ll have to wait.”

This went on for weeks, with me trying to convince Mom I was six, because really, how could she know my age better than I did? I thought eventually she would have to give in and let me go to school, but I suppose one day I must have realized this wasn’t going to happen, so I broke down and confessed. “I’m sorry I lied. I’m not really six. I am only three years old.”