Was there a time that I persevered when I wanted to quit?
Was there ever a time I did not?
At the age of 5, when most kids learn to read I could not.
Hour by hour, my mom showed me flash cards of phonics and sounded them out.
My grandpa and grandma read books with me.
I could not get it. Words did not make sense.
I could not see them in the order they were supposed to be in.
I would see a page of words and it would shift to say something other than what I was being told it said.
My eyes deceived me.
Hours passed. Weeks flew. Months turned to years.
I could not read.
One day, the words made a tiny bit of sense. The sounds were memorable. I was nine.

Hour by hour. I read what was expected for school. I traced letters and sounded it out in my head.
Workbook after workbook, page by page.

I could read.

Five years later I walked into the local library and brought home the Hobbit.

Three weeks later I returned it with a head full of stories.

I am now a writer.

Perseverance pays off.