Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?

When I think about the hundreds of books I’ve read over the years, one stands out above all othersnot for its complexity or literary acclaim, but for its profound impact on my life. It was the first book I ever read, a vibrant picture book gifted to me by my father on my third or fourth birthday. That single book ignited a passion for reading that has shaped who I am today.

This wasn’t just any book. It was a whimsical pop-up picture book, bursting with colorful illustrations and playful storytelling. It followed the adventures of three curious kittens as they explored the world, encountering delightful surprises and charming misadventures along the way. The pages were heavy on vivid imagery and light on words, perfect for a young child just beginning to discover the magic of stories. I can still recall the thrill of flipping through those pages, the pop-ups springing to life, and the joy of revisiting the kittens’ journey countless times. I must have “read” that book a thousand times, each turn of the page deepening my love for storytelling.

That little book was the gateway to a lifelong reading adventure. From those colorful pop-ups, I graduated to the enchanting worlds of Enid Blyton, where secret clubs and magical lands awaited. Then came the thrilling mysteries of The Hardy Boys and the sharp deductions of Sherlock Holmes. As I grew older, I devoured the gripping tales of Dick Francis, each novel pulling me deeper into the world of literature. There was a time when I’d race through a novel a day, losing myself in stories that transported me to new places and perspectives.

Lately, I’ve slowed down on reading, trading the printed page for the visual storytelling of the big screen. It’s easier on my eyes and still feeds my curiosity and love for learning. While I may not read a novel a day anymore, the spark that picture book ignited still burns brightly, reminding me of the joy and wonder that storieswhether in books or on screenbring to our lives.