The golden sand engulfs my feet, the crisp ocean breeze gently ruffles my hair, and the sounds of waves crashing are distant in the background. My skin is absorbing every sunray it can manage and is turning a caramelized brown. The beach is almost completely vacant and serene as can be, and in this moment lying on a beach towel with a book in hand, nothing can touch me. I think of nothing other than what is transpiring within the pages of my novel. I hear the waves crashing, I feel the breeze, but I’m not on the beach, I’m in my book. I read until the sun is set and the beach really does become vacant. I know I have to leave this paradise in a few short hours, but I push the thought aside because in this moment nothing else matters.

In my home curled up by the fire with the heat on my face as I read, my father enters the room and asks me a question, but I don’t hear it. He asks once more and finds no response. I finally look up a second too late to see him exhale in defeat and retreat into the kitchen. I am left in my sanctuary and I return to my book, I become trapped within the piece of literature and I don’t escape until the fire dulls to only luminescent embers. What seems to be minutes later but actually hours, my father approaches the fire and he informs me that it is late and I should get some sleep. I glance at the clock that reads one o’ clock in the morning, and realize I have been reading for five hours. In five more hours I must to wake up and make my way to an early morning volleyball practice, but this does not phase me because in this moment nothing else matters. I don’t think of what is to come in the morning, I just read.

It is now summer and I sway on a hammock hidden under a blossom tree with yet another book in hand. In the distance I hear children playing in the street and the ice cream anthem as the truck makes its way down the road. My back is dented with the rope of the hammock and my neck is sore from craning it to see my book, but the pain is subdued by my concentration so I barely notice it. My mother calls for me to come inside the house to eat dinner, but I don’t comply. I remain swaying in the hammock and read until the porch lights are forced to come on. I know I have to put the book down because if I stay, mosquitos will eat me alive, but against my better judgment, I stay for ten more minutes. I know I will inevitably regret this decision later when the itching bumps form on my skin, but right this second and in this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s the holiday season and the ideal evening to stay in and read, the gray skies look uninviting and the temperature is bone chilling. I lounge on my favorite couch that faces a bay window while multitasking between watching the light snowfall start to freckle itself across my lawn and reading my novel. My mother is one room away and in the midst of wrapping presents when she suddenly asks me to assist her wrap, which breaks me from the trance I have fallen into. I reply and tell her I will be there shortly, but I don’t get there shortly. I become immersed within the story and forget my mother’s request, and I don’t even realize that the light snowfall turn into a heavy one until I gaze outside to see that the yard now resembles a sea of snow. I find my mother and apologize for being so forgetful, but she understands that time gets away from me while reading and ultimately forgives me. I return to the couch and continue where I left off. My mother brings me a mug of peppermint hot chocolate with three large marshmallows and I graciously thank her. In this moment nothing matters but the warm chocolate making its way to the pit of my stomach and the book is my hands.

These moments with my books when nothing else matters are the moments that matter the most. Each flip of a page in my book brings emotions of heartbreak, joy, and hopefulness all the while I become more enamored with the stories. I know that when life doesn’t go exactly as planned I can always turn to a book and forget for a while, and the little moments like reading by the fire or on a hammock have the most impact of my life. No matter how insignificant or brief the moments may seem they are the memories that I cherish and will hold on to forever.