A difference

Lately I’ve been feeling my life is meaningless. I am fulfilled at home but there is something missing. Even with the new job that I enjoy there is something missing. I don’t feel as though I am contributing to society in any way. I want to feel like I’m making a difference. Tomorrow I’ll go to the Washington Literacy Council for a seminar on tutoring illiterate (or moderately literate) adults to read. I’ll see if it’s something I want to do (and can do based on whatever schedule is available).

Either way, I am excited. I tried in November to go to the orientation but missed it because my mother was hospitalized. If it’s one thing I love, it’s reading. I could spend hours in the library, Borders or Barnes & Noble. To imagine adults unable to read to their children, let alone read for pleasure, or understand medicines or food labels or order from a menu in a restaurant or understand street signs is foreign to me. But some part of me understands how that lack of knowledge can continue into adulthood. The lack of support begins in childhood. If there is no one to foster the necessity for literacy, no parents, no family members, no teachers, no concerned citizens, it must be rather easy to slip through the cracks.

I want to seal the cracks.

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