My earliest memory of reading involves not being able to.

My older sisters are sprawled out on the living room floor, laughing and enjoying the Sunday comics. I am too young to read, and it’s burning me up. I can’t bear to be excluded. My first great longing was to read.

Books imprint us even before we can decipher the words. As a preschooler I clearly remember three books in our home: a photo book on Albert Schweitzer’s humanitarian work in Africa; “Jack and the Beanstalk” and “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

I never became a missionary to Africa, but I have slayed a few giants in my time and understand why Harper Lee never needs to write another book.

When my family unraveled, books became my sanctuary and refuge.

Mama might have been drunk out of her mind in the next room, but I was in my bedroom helping Trixie Belden solve “The Mystery of the Uninvited Guest.” We were flat broke, but I was rich in stories. Whenever the electricity was disconnected due to non-payment, I would light a candle and read. There is not enough darkness in the whole world to take away what books give you.

No wonder that libraries are my favorite places. It started with my hometown library, as I describe in my book, “The Cracker Queen—A Memoir of a Jagged, Joyful Life.”

“The greatest luxury of childhood was time spent among the stacks of the Warner Robins library, inhaling the unmistakable aroma of printed paper. If the essence of that smell could be distilled, I’d wear it as cologne and drizzle it on my grits in the morning.

In fourth grade I fantasized about eating books and washing them down with a glass of aqua-blue plant food. When home life was bleak, I read even more, increasing the dosage of the medicine that kept me hopeful.”

Books have been my constant companions over the years. Right now there are 27 piled on my nightstand and overflowing onto the floor. I can’t help but be surrounded by them. After all, they saved me once, and I am loyal. I also know that they offer something deeper than just entertainment.

Think about it: everything you‘ve ever read, loved, and thought back on is now part of you. In this way books are conduits. Something important comes through the story and touches your heart and mind — changes you in some way. I don’t believe that books change the world, but I know that changed hearts and minds do.

So I invite you to read this Summer. Savor the sun and linger in the stories. Be delighted. Be moved. Or just plain be. Go to that place where words fall away and you are left with something wondrous indeed.