“Just a few chapters more” has probably been the one constant chorus in my life. I can remember saying it as early as the first grade. My mom would take me (and my siblings) to the library, and I would come home with as many books as the library would allow. And late into the night (or maybe until like 8 o’clock…I was little), I would huddle beneath the covers as I explored infinite universes created from just twenty-six letters. My parents would come into my room to tell me it was time for bed, and I would beg “please, just a few chapters more.” And as I got older (and no longer had a bedtime) it was a phrase I often repeated as the night wore on and I grew tired. “Just a few chapters more and then I’ll go to bed,” I’d tell myself. More often than not, I’d either end up falling asleep with the book still in my hand, or I’d end up finishing the book before I went to bed.
Libraries have come and gone, my books and I have traveled across the country and back, and my taste in books has changed, but my need for “just a few chapters more” has never faded.