Another short story

"When do I get to learn?" Impatiently I bounce in my seat, hoping for the answer I want.

"First grade." My mom answers just like she has all the other times.

"What? That long? I want to learn now." Frustrated I sit back in my carseat. My eyes glare at the passing street signs and all of their hidden secrets.

"Ashlyn it's only a year. You can wait that long. Or if you wanted to you can teach yourself."

My mom chuckles to herself at the idea, but I don't hear it. I repeat it to myself liking the way it sounds. I am going to teach myself. I am going to learn to read, all by myself.

I have never been much of a goals person, but to me reading was something I needed to know how to do. With or without a teacher I was going to learn.

I threw myself at Dr. Seuss like a wild child. My mom read the books to me over and over until I had them memorized. I had her point at every word she read, then I would repeat it. Soon I would walk around the house reciting Green Eggs and Ham from memory.

My mom must have thought I was crazy. Or maybe she was filled with that strange mother pride they get when their child does something strange.

Simple words built on top of each other. From the bottom up they made paragraphs. Then stories. Soon tales about kids loosing teeth, and the three little pigs fly through my hands. The library became my second home. I would sit there for hours, in silence, reading. A miracle by anyone's standards, for someone my age.

On our annual trip to my grandma's house a stack of books sat at my feet. Stories waiting to be discovered, but this time I had a new mission. My attention turns to those street signs. The same signs I glared at before.

Then their secrets are slowly sounded out, into words dancing in my mouth.