Five Pages a Day Read Free Page A

teased each other about boyfriends. Alice, Dorothy, Renée, and Shirley seemed like sisters, and the success of one of us became the success of all. When I got walking sticks and said goodbye to Silver, the other girls clapped. Even though none of them would ever get out of their wheelchairs, my progress was a victory against our mutual foe.
    Every Sunday Mother brought my homework, so in addition to attending the hospital school for two hours each day, I studied on my own, trying to keep up with my class in Austin. Between school-work and physical therapy, my days were full. But not so full that I didn’t get homesick once in a while. I especially missed Grandpa, who lived with my family. I missed B.J., too, although he wrote me funny letters, which I read aloud to the other girls. His letters were signed with a muddy paw print.
    In February, five months after I moved in with Dorothy, Alice, Renée, and Shirley, I was discharged from the Sheltering Arms. By then I could walk a few steps by myself.
    I continued the physical therapy at home, lying on the dining room table while Mother stretched my muscles. I practiced walking, trying each time to go one minute longer.
    In April, still using my walking sticks, I returned to school. Eventually I walked alone well enough that I no longer needed the sticks.
    The experience of being paralyzed and uprooted from my family changed me forever and continues to affect me now, half a century later. Polio taught me perseverance. I rejoiced over minor accomplishments and learned that success can come one small step at a time. Because I know that life might change or even end without warning, I appreciate each day. I cherish family and friends, and try to make the most of my time and talents.

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    High School Days
    W hile I recovered from polio, I read a lot. The summer after I got home from the hospital, I devoured an entire set of encyclopedias, from A to Z . I discovered the Louisa May Alcott books and read Little Women many times. Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster became a favorite.
    I had always loved to read, although I don’t remember being read to as a child. When I was growing up, I never saw my parents read for pleasure, yet I regularly sneaked a flashlight into bed and read with my head under the covers when I was supposed to be asleep.
    On bright summer days, I sat on the couch with my nose in a book until Mother insisted that I “go outside and get some fresh air.” Then I stretched out on the grass or in our hammock and read some more.
    I remember only one teacher who read aloud to the class. When I was in fourth grade, Miss Beck read us The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew . I hung on every word and begged her to read more than one chapter each day. Miss Beck didn’t give in to my pleas, but she did encourage me to read other books. My school had no library, so she suggested that I borrow books from the public library.
    I took her advice, checked out a copy of The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew , and finished it ahead of the class.
    I became a regular visitor at the library. My parents let me read whatever I brought home. The only time they disapproved of my reading was when I used my allowance to buy comic books. Mother thought they were a waste of money, but she never forbade me to read them. My favorites were Little Lulu and Archie and His Friends .
    I loved the library so much that I even played library at home. Each of my childhood Raggedy Ann books has a yellowed 3 x 5 card taped on the inside front cover. On the card, written in my childish cursive writing, is the title of the book and lines for the borrower’s name and the due date. However, none of those lines were ever filled in. I pretended to be a librarian, but I couldn’t bear to lend out my cherished books.
    After polio, I read even more because my weakened muscles prevented me from swimming, bike-riding, bowling, and other activities that my friends enjoyed. Most