I tell my mom goodnight before heading upstairs. She has no idea I’m planning to stay up way past my bedtime, so I tiptoe down the hallway, close my bedroom door, and pretend to be asleep.

A few minutes later, I reach for my magical flashlight that never seems to run out of batteries.

The house is completely still. All I can hear is my own breathing, the turning of pages, and every now and then, a giggle as I read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. One chapter becomes another, and hours somehow feel like minutes. Then, out of nowhere, someone tugs on my blanket.

I freeze.

Caught.

My face turns bright red.

“What are you doing?” my mom asks.

I look up at her, completely speechless. For a second, I don’t know what to say. I glance toward the window instead, noticing the curtains moving in the breeze and the full moon casting a glow across the backyard.

Mom gives me that look.

“Go to sleep,” she says. “You have to get up for school in a few hours.”

“Okay, Mom,” I say, trying to sound convincing.

She doesn’t seem to buy it. Just raises an eyebrow, turns around, and walks out of my room.

I wait until I can’t hear her footsteps anymore. Then I let out a sigh of relief, grab my flashlight, and keep reading until dawn.

My mom and I walk into the best bookstore in town. We head straight for the science fiction section, and as we get there, she smiles and puts her arm around my shoulder.

“You can have any book you want,” she says. “Take your time. We’ll buy one to bring home.”

I just stare at her for a second.

Growing up in a working class family, we didn’t have much extra money. So, buying a brand new book at full price wasn’t something that happened very often.

“Really?” I ask, looking up at her. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” she says with a smile. “Go find one!”

“Thanks!” I shout as I race down the aisle, the bookshelves turning into a blur as I run past them. “I love you. So, so much.”

It’s five o’clock in the morning but I’m not watching the sunrise. Instead, I’m reading Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief.

A loud knock at the door makes me jump.

A few seconds later, my mom pokes her head into my bedroom.

“Are you getting ready for school?” she asks.

“Not yet,” I say. “I’ll get dressed in a minute. I just need to see what happens at the end of this chapter.”

The words are out before I even think about them.

I’ve basically admitted that I’m reading when I probably should be getting ready.

But Mom doesn’t get mad.

She just smiles, and I can see the amusement on her face.

“Give me the flashlight,” she says. “I’m taking it downstairs. You’re not supposed to have it in your bedroom.”

I listen as her footsteps fade down the hallway.

A few minutes later, I head downstairs for breakfast and find her sitting at the kitchen table, replacing the batteries in my flashlight.

“I’ve been hiding a secret from you for years,” she says with a chuckle.

And for a moment, I’m completely lost for words.

I still visit my favorite bookstore whenever I go back to my hometown. Every time I walk through those doors, I’m reminded of how much has changed.

But deep down, I’m still the same kid hiding under the covers with a flashlight, reading until the early hours of the morning.

I love listening to audiobooks while sitting by the river (yes, they count as reading). Often though, I’ll pause them, close my eyes for a minute and take a deep breath. I can feel the breeze against my skin and hear the leaves moving in the trees. Sometimes, when I open my eyes, I’ll notice baby ducklings quacking and floating downstream.

Goodness knows what ducks would think if they saw how many books were written about them. But as my fiancée in Boston says… we need to make way (and time) for ducklings. Which, if you haven’t read it, is an awesome book

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