I don’t know how it happened, but I married a non-reader. This was years ago but at the time, it didn’t occur to me that he was a non-reader. I sometimes wonder how it could have slipped by me because reading has been a part of my life since I was a small child. How in the world could I have married a man who HATES to read? I know that hate is a strong word, but that is the word he uses to describe the act.

For years, I’ve pushed books his way. He loves history and documentaries that have anything to do with sunken ships and the ocean in general. With this in mind, I’ve put books into his hands that might fit the bill, but as soon as he sees a book his eyes glaze over. Don’t get me wrong, he tries, but once he sets the book down, it stays down. I’ve pretty much given up.

I suppose it’s good that one of us is a non-reader, in that, when I get into a reading jag (and that is what I call it), someone has to feed the kids, get them dressed, etc. So perhaps there is balance there, yet it’s just not readily visible. It does peeve me sometimes when he gives me “the eye” over reading “too much.” To him, it’s too much. To me, it’s never enough.

I suspect this is one of the main reasons I started this blog. When you read a particularly good book, you want to talk about it, share it with the world, etc. Here, I know that I am in the company of others like me. No one gives me the eye for gushing about a book. No one questions the time I spend reading. You all get me, and I in turn, get you.

It’s a beautiful thing.

I do wish sometimes I could find that one book to turn him around but I’ve accepted that it’s just not his thing. Apparently, it’s not my son’s thing either ( I haven’t given up on him though), but my daughter makes up for it. Thank goodness she is a reader or I’d be completely out-numbered.

Do you live in a household like this?