In honor of mothers who read to their children

You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be -
I had a mother who read to me.
~Strickland Gillilan

Do you remember the first book that you really made a connection with? Do you remember the person who read you that book? Do you remember where you were sitting? What else do you remember about it?

I remember sitting on the nubby brown polyester couch; my mother in the middle, my brothers on her left, I on her right. It was a warm summer day, the sun shining through the window behind us. It was the narrow window next to the front door, so the sun was slantedly shining across the right side of me. The curtains on the big windows in the room were closed, to help keep the room cool. She was reading Little House In The Big Woods. It was the part about Pa going to town, how far it was, and how long it took him. We asked how far it was (in a way we could comprehend--3 miles doesn't mean much when you're small.) We were amazed at how long it took Pa to get to town and back, when for us it was only a short car ride away.

My mother read to us every day; but that book, that day is what I remember best.

As a mother, I'm curious what my children will remember of their first real connection with a book. Will it be me they remember reading it? Or, will they remember something their dad read to them? Someone else? Was it a book they read themselves? What book will be associated with that memory? What was the day like? Was it night? Where were they sitting? Who else was there?

I wonder if my brothers share the same memory, or if they remember a different book at a different time. It's interesting to me, that story of people's first connections with books. Please, comment and share yours.