Reading has always been such a huge part of my life. I have a vivid memory of my three-year-old self, lying in bed with my mother on a lazy weekend afternoon as she taught me to sound out words using two picture books, The ‘A’ Book and The ‘B’ Book. We didn’t have the rest of the alphabet because A and B were the only ones available at the Salvation Army. While she taught me phonics and how to read, my immigrant mother was teaching herself English, as well. That’s the thing that I always loved about books and stories. It’s not just the emotions they conjure or the ability of stories to put you into someone else’s shoes, they becomes recollections of the past. When I think about a book I read, I can distinctly remember a moment from my life, a vivid snapshot of reading that book. When I hear The Age of Innocence, I think of lying on a blanket overlooking the Han River in South Korea, on a cool spring day with just enough sunlight to feel warm all over. If you mention Flowers for Algernon, I’ll recall snuggling up under the covers on a cold autumn night. The Kite Runner, the beach. The most pivotal texts in my life are the ones where the moment matches so perfectly with the story.